


Midnight Sun: Revamped

by JGluum



Series: The Twilight Saga Revamped [4]
Category: Twilight Series - Stephenie Meyer
Genre: Canon Rewrite, LGBTQ Character, LGBTQ Themes, M/M, Rewrite, Romance, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-30
Updated: 2018-08-15
Packaged: 2019-02-24 00:34:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 25
Words: 169,826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13201908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JGluum/pseuds/JGluum
Summary: Edward Cullen's life in Forks, a small, perpetually rainy town in Washington, has long been little more than a monotonous existence of repetitive play-acting . But once he meets the quiet and secretive Beauregard Swan, his life takes an unexpected and life-altering turn. Up until now, Edward has managed to keep his vampire identity a secret in the small community he lives in, but now nobody is safe, especially Beau, who threatens everything Edward has come to hold dear.Relive Twilight: Revamped through the eyes of Edward Cullen.





	1. First Sight

* * *

 

_I cannot die; who drank delight_

_From the cup of the crescent moon,_

_And hungrily as men eat bread,_

_Loved the scented nights of June_

_The rest may die – but there is not_

_Some shining strange escape for me_

_Who sought in Beauty the bright wine_

_Of immortality_

_-Sara Teasedale_

 

* * *

 

**Preface**

 

After everything, it had come to this.

Love changes you. It reshapes you. It carefully and systematically cuts every tie and bind you may have known up to that point in time and carefully restrings them to something new. One heart to another.

My heart had been ice for so long and this warmth was unlike anything I had known in a century of existence. Now, I would lose it. Lose my very reason for living.

The monster was rejoicing—celebrating his victory. I didn’t know if I could stop him this time. Everything he wanted lay broken on the floor in a pool of blood. He screamed with desire, with an animal need.

Everything I had done to keep him at bay had been in vain. Now, I was faced with a choice; would I allow the monster to win? Or would I destroy him?

 

* * *

 

 

**1\. First Sight**

 

This was the time of day when I wished I were able to sleep.

High school.

Or was purgatory the right word? If there _was_ any way to atone for my sins, this ought to count toward the tally in some measure. The tedium was not something I grew used to; every day seemed more impossibly monotonous than the last.

I suppose this _was_ my form of sleep—if sleep was defined as the inert state between active periods.

I stared at the cracks running through the plaster in the far corner of the cafeteria, imagining patterns into them that were not there. It was one way to tune out the voices that babbled like the gush of a river inside my head.

Several hundred of these voices I ignored out of boredom.

When it came to the human mind, I’d heard it all before and then some. Today, all thoughts were consumed with the trivial drama of a new addition to the small student body here. It took so little to work them all up. I’d seen the new face repeated in thought after thought from every angle. Just an ordinary human boy. The excitement over his arrival was tiresomely predictable—like flashing a shiny object at a child. Half the females were already imagining themselves in love with him, just because he was something new to look at. I tried harder to tune them out.

Only four voices did I block out of courtesy rather than distaste; my family, my three brothers and one sister, who were so used to the lack of privacy in my presence that they rarely gave it a thought. I gave them what privacy I could. I tried not to listen if I could help it.

Try as I may, still… I knew.

Royal was thinking, as usual, about himself. He’d caught sight of his profile in the reflection of someone’s glasses, and he was mulling over his own perfection. Royal’s mind was a shallow pool with few surprises.

Emmett was fuming over a wrestling match he’d lost to Jasper during the night. It would take all his limited patience to make it to the end of the school day to orchestrate a rematch. I never really felt intrusive hearing Emmett’s thoughts, because he never thought one thing that he would not say aloud or put into action. Perhaps I only felt guilty reading the others’ minds because I knew there were things there that they wouldn’t want me to know. If Royal’s mind was a shallow pool, then Emmett’s was a lake with no shadows, glass clear.

And Jasper was…suffering. I suppressed a sigh.

 _Edward_. Alice called my name in her head, and had my attention at once.

It was just the same as having my name called aloud. I was glad my given name had fallen out of style lately—it had been annoying; anytime anyone thought of any Edward, my head would turn automatically…

My head didn’t turn now. Alice and I were good at these private conversations. It was rare than anyone caught us. I kept my eyes on the lines in the plaster.

 _How is he holding up?_ She asked me.

I frowned, just a small change in the set of my mouth. Nothing that would tip the others off. I could easily be frowning out of boredom.

Alice’s mental tone was alarmed now, and I saw in her mind that she was watching Jasper in her peripheral vision.

 _Is there any danger?_ She searched ahead, into the immediate future, skimming through visions of monotony for the source behind my frown.

I turned my head slowly to the left, as if looking at the bricks of the wall, sighed, and then to the right, back to the cracks in the ceiling. Only Alice knew I was shaking my head.

She relaxed. _Let me know if it gets too bad._

I moved only my eyes, up to the ceiling above, and back down.

 _Thanks for doing this_.

I was glad I couldn’t answer her aloud. What would I say? ‘My pleasure’? It was hardly that. I didn’t enjoy listening to Jasper’s struggles. Was it really necessary to experiment like this? Wouldn’t the safer path be to just admit that he might never be able to handle the thirst the way the rest of us could, and not push his limits? Why flirt with disaster?

It had been two weeks since our last hunting trip. That was not an immensely difficult time span for the rest of us. A little uncomfortable occasionally—if a human walked too close, if the wind blew the wrong way. But humans rarely walked too close. Their instincts told them what their conscious minds would never understand; we were dangerous.

Jasper was very dangerous right now.

At that moment, a small girl paused at the end of the closest table to ours, stopping to talk to a friend. She tossed her short, sandy hair, running her fingers through it. The heaters blew her scent in our direction. I was used to the way that scent made me feel—the dry ache in my throat, the hollow yearn in my stomach, the automatic tightening of my muscles, the excess flow of venom in my mouth…

This was quite normal, usually easy to ignore. It was harder just now, with the feelings stronger, doubled, as I monitored Jasper’s reaction. Twin thirsts, rather than just mine.

Jasper was letting his imagination get away from him. He was picturing it—picturing himself getting up from his seat next to Alice and going to stand beside the little girl. Thinking of leaning down and in, as if he were going to whisper in her ear, and letting his lips touch the arch of her throat. Imagining how the hot flow of her pulse beneath the fine skin would feel under his mouth…

I kicked his chair.

He met my gaze for a minute, and then looked down. I could hear shame and rebellion war in his head.

“Sorry,” Jasper muttered.

I shrugged.

“You weren’t going to do anything,” Alice murmured to him, soothing his chagrin. “I could see that.”

I fought back the grimace that would give her lie away. We had to stick together, Alice and me. It wasn’t easy, hearing voices or seeing visions of the future. Both freaks among those who were already freaks. We protected each other’s secrets.

“It helps a little if you think of them as people,” Alice suggested, her high, musical voice too fast for human hears to understand, if any had been close enough to hear. “Her name is Whitney. She had a baby sister she adores. Her mother invited Esme to that garden party, do you remember?”

“I know who she is,” Jasper said curtly. He turned away to stare out one of the small windows that were spaced just under the eaves around the long room. His tone ended the conversation.

He would have to hunt tonight. It was ridiculous to take risks like this, trying to test his strength, to build his endurance. Jasper should just accept his limitations and work within them. His former habits were not conducive to our chosen lifestyle; he shouldn’t push himself this way.

Alice sighed silently and stood, taking her tray of food—her prop, as it were—with her and leaving him alone. She knew when he’d had enough of her encouragement. Though Royal and Emmett were more flagrant about their relationship, it was Alice and Jasper who knew each other’s every mood as well as their own. As if they could read minds, too—only just each other’s.

 _Edward Cullen_.

Reflex reaction. I turned to the sound of my name being called, though it wasn’t being called, just thought.

My eyes locked for a small portion of a second with a pair of wide, silver-gray human eyes set in a pale, heart-shaped face. I knew the face, though I’d never seen it myself before this moment. It had been foremost in every human head today. The new student, Beauregard Swan. Son of the town’s chief of police, brought to live here by some new custody situation. Beau. He’d corrected everyone who’d used his full name…

I looked away, bored. It took me a second to realize that he had not been the one to think my name.

 _Not surprising he’s asking about the Cullens_ , I heard the first thought continue.

Now I recognized the ‘voice.’ Jessica Stanley—it had been a while since she had bothered me with her internal chatter. What a relief it had been when she’d gotten over her misplaced infatuation. It used to be nearly impossible to escape her constant, ridiculous daydreams. I’d wished, at the time, that I could explain to her _exactly_ what would have happened if my lips, and the teeth behind them, had gotten anywhere near her. That would have silenced those annoying fantasies. The thought of her reaction almost made me smile.

      _I wonder if he’s… I guess I can’t just ask him,_ Jessica went on. _He’s really cute. I’m not surprised Erica’s been staring at him so much. He’s definitely cuter than Mike._

She winced mentally on the last name. Her new infatuation, the generically popular Mike Newton, was completely oblivious to her. However, he was not as oblivious to the new boy. Poor girl, she has no idea. Despite Jessica’s preoccupation with the Newton boy, she was animatedly speaking to the newcomer, explaining to him the commonly held knowledge about my family. The new student must have asked about us.

 _He’s so quiet! He’s hardly talking to anyone other than me,_ Jessica was thinking, _maybe Mike will want to ask me what he’s li—“_

I tried to block the inane chatter out of my head before the trivial mundanity could drive me mad.

“Jessica Stanley is giving the new Swan boy all the dirty laundry on the Cullen clan,” I murmured to Emmett as a distraction.

He chuckled under his breath. _I hope she’s making it good,_ he thought.

“Rather unimaginative, actually. Just the barest hint of scandal. Not an ounce of horror. I’m a little disappointed.”

_And the new boy? Is he disappointed in the gossip as well?_

I listened to hear what this new boy, Beau, thought of Jessica’s story. What did he see when he looked at the strange, chalky-skinned family that was universally avoided.

It was sort of my responsibility to know his reaction. I acted as a lookout, for lack of a better word, for my family. To protect us. If anyone ever grew suspicious, I could give us an early warning and an easy retreat. It happened occasionally—some human with an active imagination would see in us the characters of a book or a movie. Usually they got it wrong, but it was better to move on somewhere new than risk scrutiny.

Very, very rarely, someone would guess right. We didn’t give them a chance to test their hypothesis. We simply disappeared, to become no more than a frightening memory…

I heard nothing, though I listened close beside where Jessica’s frivolous internal monologue continued to gush. It was as if there was no one sitting beside her. How peculiar, had the boy moved? That didn’t seem likely, as Jessica was still babbling to him. I looked up to check, feeling off-balance. Checking on what my extra ‘hearing’ couldn’t tell me—it wasn’t something I ever had to do.

Again, my gaze locked on those same wide gray eyes. He was sitting right where he had been before, and looking at us, a natural thing to be doing, I supposed, as Jessica was still regaling him with the local gossip about the Cullens.

Thinking about us, too, would be natural.

But I couldn’t hear a whisper.

Inviting warm red stained his cheeks as he looked down, away from the embarrassing gaffe of getting caught staring at a stranger. It was good that Jasper was still gazing out the window. I didn’t like to imagine what that easy pooling of blood would do to his control.

The emotions had been as clear on the new boy’s face as if they were spelled out in words across his forehead; surprise, as he unknowingly absorbed the signs of the subtle differences between his kind and mine, curiosity, as he listened to Jessica’s tale, and something more… fascination? It wouldn’t be the first time. We were beautiful to them, our intended prey. Then, finally, embarrassment as I caught him staring at me.

And yet, though his thoughts had been so clear in his odd eyes—odd, because of the warmth and softness to them; gray eyes often seemed cold and hard to me—I could hear nothing but silence from the place he was sitting. Nothing at all.

I felt a moment of unease.

This was nothing I’d ever encountered before. Was there something wrong with me? I felt exactly the same as I always did. Worried, I listened harder.

All the voices I’d been blocking were suddenly shouting in my head.

 _…wonder what music he likes…maybe I could mention that new CD…_ Mike Newton was thinking, two tables away—fixated on Beau Swan.

 _Look at Edward staring at him. Isn’t it enough that half the students in school are waiting for him to…_ Erica Yorkie was thinking sulfurous thoughts, also revolving around the boy.

 _…So disgusting. You’d think he was famous or something… Even Edward Cullen, staring…_ Logan Mallory was so jealous that his face, by all rights, should be dark jade in color. _And Jessica, flaunting her new best friend. What a joke…_ Vitriol continued to spew from the boy’s thoughts.

 _…I bet everyone has asked him that. But I’d like to talk to him. I’ll think of a more original question…_ Lauren Mallory, Logan’s twin sister, mused.

 _…Maybe he’ll be in my Spanish…_ Ashley Dowling hoped.

 _…tons left to do tonight! Trig, and the English test. I hope my mom_ … Angela Weber, a quiet girl, whose thoughts were unusually kind, was the only one at the table who wasn’t obsessed with this Beau.

I could hear them all, hear every insignificant thing they were thinking as it passed through their minds. But nothing at all from the new student with the deceptively communicative eyes.

And, of course, I could hear what the boy said when he spoke to Jessica. I didn’t have to read minds to be able to hear his low, clear voice on the far side of the room.

“Which one is the boy with the reddish brown hair?” I heard him ask, sneaking a look at me from the corner of his eyes, only to look quickly away when he saw that I was still staring.

If I’d had time to hope that hearing the sound of his voice would help me pinpoint the tone of his thoughts, lost somewhere I couldn’t access them, I was instantly disappointed. Usually, people’s thoughts came to them in a similar pitch as their physical voices. But this quiet, shy voice was unfamiliar, not one of the hundreds of thoughts bouncing around the room, I was sure of that. Entirely new.

 _I knew he liked boys!_ Jessica thought before answering the new student’s question. “That’s Edward. He’s gorgeous, of course, but don’t waste your time. He doesn’t date. Apparently no one here is good-looking enough for him.” She sniffed.

I turned my head away to hide my smile. Jessica and her classmates had no idea how lucky they were that none of them particularly appealed to me.

Beneath the transient humor, I felt a strange impulse, one I did not clearly understand. It had something to do with the predatory nature of the thoughts swirling around this Beau Swan—so many of the students wanted to impose their way into his life. I felt the strangest urge to step in, to shield this Beau from the selfish workings of his classmates’ minds. What an odd thing to feel. Trying to ferret out the motivations behind impulse, I examined the new boy one more time.

Perhaps it was just some long buried protective instinct—the strong for the weak. This boy looked more fragile than his new classmates. His skin was so translucent it was hard to believe it offered him much defense from the outside world. I could see the rhythmic pulse of blood through his veins under the clear, pale membrane… But I should not concentrate on that. I was good at this life I’d chosen, but I was just as thirsty as Jasper and there was no point in inviting temptation.

There was a faint crease between Beau’s dark eyebrows that he seemed unaware of.

It was unbelievably frustrating! I could clearly see that it was a strain for him to sit there, to make conversation with strangers, to be the center of attention. I could sense his shyness from the way he held his shoulders, slightly hunched, as if he was expecting a rebuff at any moment. And yet I could only sense, could only see, could only imagine. There was nothing but silence from the very quiet human boy. I could hear nothing. Why?

“Shall we?” Royal murmured, interrupting my focus.

I looked away from Beau Swan with a sense of relief. I didn’t want to continue to fail at this—it irritated me. And I didn’t want to develop any interest in his hidden thoughts simply because they were hidden from me. No doubt, when I did decipher his thoughts—and I _would_ find a way to do so—they would be just as petty and trivial as any human’s thoughts. Not worth the effort I would expend to reach them.

“So is the new one afraid of us yet?” Emmett asked, still waiting for my response to his question before.

I shrugged. He wasn’t interested enough to press for more information. Nor should I be interested.

We got up from the table and walked out of the cafeteria.

Emmett, Royal, and Jasper were pretending to be seniors; they left for their classes. I was playing a younger role than they. I headed off for my junior level biology class, preparing my mind for the tedium. It was doubtful Ms. Banner, a woman of average intelligence, would manage to pull out anything in her lecture that would surprise someone holding two graduate degrees in medicine.

In the classroom, I settled into my chair and let my books—props, again; they held nothing I didn’t already know—spill across the table. I was the only student who had a table to himself. The humans weren’t smart enough to _know_ they feared me, but their survival instincts were enough to keep them away.

The room slowly filled as they trickled in from lunch. I leaned back in my chair and waited for the time to pass. Again, I wished I was able to sleep.

Because I’d been thinking about him, when Angela Weber escorted the new boy through the door, his name intruded on my attention.

_Beau seems just as shy as me. I’ll bet today is really hard for him. I wish I could say something… but it would probably just sound stupid…_

_Yes!_ Mike Newton thought, turning in his seat to watch Angela and Beau enter.

Still, from the place where Beau Swan stood, nothing. The empty space where his thoughts should be irritated and unnerved me.

He came closer, walking down the aisle beside me to get to the teacher’s desk. Poor soul; the seat next to me was the only one available. Automatically, I cleared what would be his side of the desk, shoving my books into a pile. I doubted he would feel very comfortable there. He was in for a long semester—in this class, at least. Perhaps, though, sitting beside him, I’d be able to flush out his secrets…not that I’d ever needed close proximity before…not that I would find anything worth listening to…

Beau Swan walked into the flow of the heated hair that blew toward me from the vent.

His scent hit me like a wrecking ball, like a battering ram. There was no image violent enough to encapsulate the force of what happened to me in that moment.

In that instant, I was nothing close to the human I’d once been; no trace of the shreds of humanity I’d manage to cloak myself in remained.

I was a predator. He was my prey. There was nothing else in the whole world but that truth.

There was no room full of witnesses—they were already collateral damage in my head. The mystery of his thoughts was forgotten. His thoughts meant nothing, for he would not go on thinking them much longer.

I was a vampire, and he had the sweetest blood I’d smelled in nearly a century.

I hadn’t imagined such a scent could exist. If I’d known it did, I would have gone searching for it long ago. I would have combed the planet for him. I could imagine the taste…

Thirst burned my throat like fire. My mouth was dry and papery. The fresh flow of venom did nothing to dispel the sensation. My stomach twisted with the hunger that was an echo of the thirst. My muscles coiled to spring.

Not a full second had passed. He was still taking the same step that had put him downwind from me.

As his foot touched the ground, his eyes slid toward me, a movement he clearly meant to be stealthy. His glance met mine, and I saw myself reflected in the wide mirror of his silver eyes.

The shock of the face I saw there saved his life for a few thorny moments.

He didn’t make it easier. When he processed the expression on my face, blood flooded his cheeks again, turning his skin the most delicious color I’d ever seen. The scent was a thick haze in my brain. I could barely think through it. My thoughts raged, resisting control, incoherent.

He walked more quickly now, as if he understood the need to escape. His haste made him clumsy—he tripped and stumbled forward, almost falling into the girl seated in the front of me. Vulnerable, weak. Even more than usual for a human.

I tried to focus on the face I’d seen in his eyes, a face I recognized with revulsion. The face of the monster in me—the face I’d beaten back with decades of effort and uncompromising discipline. How easily it sprang to the surface now!

The scent swirled around me again, scattering my thoughts and nearly propelling me out of my seat.

No.

My hand gripped under the edge of the table as I tried to hold myself in my chair. The wood was not up to the task. My hand crushed through the strut and came away with a palmful of splintered pulp, leaving the shape of my fingers carved into the remaining wood.

Destroy evidence. That was a fundamental rule. I quickly pulverized the edges of the shape with my fingertips, leaving nothing but a ragged hole and a pile of shavings on the floor, which I scattered with my foot.

Destroy evidence. Collateral damage....

I knew what had to happen now. The boy would have to come sit beside me, and I would have to kill him.

The innocent bystanders in this classroom, eighteen other children and one woman, could not be allowed to leave this room, having seen what they would soon see.

I flinched at the thought of what I must do. Even at my very worst, I had never committed this kind of atrocity. I had never killed innocents, not in over nine decades. And now I planned to slaughter twenty of them at once.

The face of the monster in the mirror mocked me.

Even as part of me shuddered away from the monster, another part was planning it.

If I killed the boy first, I would have only fifteen or twenty seconds with him before the humans in the room would react. Maybe a little bit longer, if at first they did not realize what I was doing. He would not have time to scream or feel pain; I would not kill him cruelly. That much I could give this stranger with his horribly desirable blood.

But then I would have to stop them from escaping. I wouldn’t have to worry about the windows, too high up and small to provide an escape for anyone. Just the door—block that and they were trapped.

It would be slower and more difficult, trying to take them all down when they were panicked and scrambling, moving in chaos. Not impossible, but there would be much more noise. Time for lots of screaming. Someone would hear...and I’d be forced to kill even more innocents in this black hour.

And his blood would cool, while I murdered the others

The scent punished me, closing my throat with dry aching...

So the witnesses first then.

I mapped it out in my head. I was in the middle of the room, the furthest row in the back. I would take my right side first. I could snap four or five of their necks per second, I estimated. It would not be noisy. The right side would be the lucky side; they would not see me coming. Moving around the front and back up the left side, it would take me, at most, five seconds to end every life in this room.

Long enough for Beau Swan to see, briefly, what was coming for him. Long enough for him to feel fear. Long enough, maybe, if shock didn’t freeze him in place, for him to work up a scream. One soft scream that would not bring anyone running.

I took a deep breath, and the scent was a fire that raced through my veins, burning out from my chest to consume every better impulse that I was capable of.

He was just turning now. In a few seconds, he would sit down inches away from me.

The monster in my head smiled in anticipation.

Someone slammed shut a folder on my left. I didn’t look up to see which of the doomed humans it was. But the motion sent a wave of ordinary, unscented air wafting across my face.

For one short second, I was able to think clearly. In that precious second, I saw two faces in my head, side by side.

One was mine, or rather had been: the red-eyed monster that had killed so many people that I’d stop counting their numbers. Rationalized, justified murders. A killer of killers, a killer of other, less powerful monsters. It was a god complex, I acknowledged that—deciding who deserved a death sentence. It was a compromise with myself. I had fed on human blood, but only by the loosest definition. My victims were, in their various dark pastimes, barely more human than I was.

The other face was Carlisle’s.

There was no resemblance between the two faces. They were bright day and blackest night.

There was no reason for there to be a resemblance. Carlisle was not my father in the basic biological sense. We shared no common features. The similarity in our coloring was a product of what we were; every vampire had the same ice pale skin. The similarity in the color of our eyes was another matter—a reflection of a mutual choice.

And yet, though there was no basis for a resemblance, I’d imagined that my face had begun to reflect his, to an extent, in the last ninety-odd years that I had embraced his choice and followed in his steps. My features had not changed, but it seemed to me like some of his wisdom had marked my expression, that a little of his compassion could be traced in the shape of my mouth, and hints of his patience were evident on my brow.

All those tiny improvements were lost in the face of the monster. In a few moments, there would be nothing left in me that would reflect the years I’d spent with my creator, my mentor, my father in all the ways that counted. My eyes would glow red as a devil’s; all likeness would be lost forever.

In my head, Carlisle’s kind eyes did not judge me. I knew that he would forgive me for this horrible act that I would do. Because he loved me. Because he thought I was better than I was. And he would still love me, even as I now proved him wrong.

Beau Swan sat down in the chair next to me, his movements stiff and awkward— with fear?—and the scent of his blood bloomed in an inexorable cloud around me.

I would prove my father wrong about me. The misery of this fact hurt almost as much as the fire in my throat.

I leaned away from him in revulsion—revolted by the monster aching to take him.

Why did he have to come here? Why did he have to exist? Why did he have to ruin the little peace I had in this non-life of mine? Why had this aggravating human ever been born? He would ruin me.

I turned my face away from him, as a sudden fierce, unreasoning hatred washed through me.

Who _was_ this creature? Why me, why now? Why did I have to lose everything just because he happened to choose this unlikely town to appear in?

Why had he come here!

I didn’t want to be the monster! I didn’t want to kill this room full of harmless humans! I didn’t want to lose everything I’d gained in a lifetime of sacrifice and denial!

I wouldn’t. He couldn’t make me.

The scent was the problem, the hideously appealing scent of his blood. If there was only some way to resist...if only another gust of fresh air could clear my head.

Beau Swan ran his fingers through his thick, mahogany hair.

Was he insane? It was as if he were encouraging the monster! Taunting him. There was no friendly breeze to blow the smell away from me now. All would soon be lost.

No, there was no helpful breeze. But I didn’t _have_ to breathe.

I stopped the flow of air through my lungs; the relief was instantaneous, but incomplete. I still had the memory of the scent in my head, the taste of it on the back of my tongue. I wouldn’t be able to resist even that for long. But perhaps I could resist for an hour. One hour. Just enough time to get out of this room full of victims, victims that maybe didn’t have to _be_ victims. If I could resist for one short hour.

It was an uncomfortable feeling, not breathing. My body did not need oxygen, but it went against my instincts. I relied on scent more than my other senses in times of stress. It led the way in the hunt, it was the first warning in case of danger. I did not often came across something as dangerous as I was, but self-preservation was just as strong in my kind as it was in the average human.

Uncomfortable, but manageable. More bearable than smelling _him_ and not sinking my teeth through that fine, thin, pale skin to the hot, wet, pulsing—

An hour! Just one hour. I must not think of the scent, the taste.

The silent boy leaned forward, resting his head in his hand, turning his face away from me slightly. I couldn’t see his face properly, to read the emotions in his clear diamond-gray eyes. Was this why he had turned away from me? To hide those eyes from me? Out of fear? Shyness? To keep his secrets from me?

My former irritation at being stymied by his soundless thoughts was weak and pale in comparison to the need—and the hate—that possessed me now. For I hated this mysterious boy beside me, hated him with all the fervor with which I clung to my former self, my love of my family, my dreams of being something better than what I was... Hating him, hating how he made me feel—it helped a little. Yes, the irritation I’d felt before was weak, but it, too, helped a little. I clung to any emotion that distracted me from imagining what he would _taste_ like...

Hate and irritation. Impatience. Would the hour never pass?

And when the hour ended... Then he would walk out of this room. And I would do what?

I could introduce myself. _Hello, my name is Edward Cullen. May I walk you to your next class?_

He would say yes. It would be the polite thing to do. Even already fearing me, as I suspected he did, he would follow convention and walk beside me. It should be easy enough to lead him in the wrong direction. A spur of the forest reached out like a finger to touch the back corner of the parking lot. I could tell him I’d forgotten a book in my car...

Would anyone notice that I was the last person he’d been seen with? It was raining, as usual; two dark raincoats heading the wrong direction wouldn’t pique too much interest, or give me away.

Except that I was not the only student who was aware of him today—though no one was as blisteringly aware as I was. Mike Newton, in particular, was conscious of every shift in his weight as he fidgeted in his chair—he was uncomfortable so close to me, just as anyone would be, just as I’d expected before his scent had destroyed all charitable concern. Mike Newton would notice if he left the classroom with me.

If I could last an hour, could I last two?

I flinched at the pain of the burning.

He would go home to an empty house. Police Chief Swan worked a full day. I knew his house, as I knew every house in the tiny town. His home was nestled right up against thick woods, with no close neighbors. Even if he had time to scream, which he would not, there would be no one to hear.

That would be the responsible way to deal with this. I’d gone eight decades without human blood. If I held my breath, I could last two hours. And when I had him alone, there would be no chance of anyone else getting hurt. _And no reason to rush through the experience_ , the monster in my head agreed.

It was sophistry to think that by saving the nineteen humans in this room with effort and patience, I would be less a monster when I killed this innocent boy.

Though I hated him, I knew my hatred was unjust. I knew that what I really hated was myself. And I would hate us both so much more when he was dead.

I made it through the hour in this way—imagining the best ways to kill him. I tried to avoid imagining the actual _act_. That might be too much for me; I might lose this battle and end up killing everyone in sight. So I planned strategy, and nothing more. It carried me through the hour.

Once, toward the very end, he peeked up at me through his fingers. I could feel the unjustified hatred burning out of me as I met his gaze—see the reflection of it in his frightened eyes. Blood painted his cheeks before he could hide in his hands again, and I was nearly undone.

But the bell rang. Saved by the bell—how cliché. We were both saved. He, saved from death. I, saved for just a short time from being the nightmarish creature I feared and loathed.

I couldn’t walk as slowly as I should as I darted from the room. If anyone had been looking at me, they might have suspected that there was something not right about the way I moved. No one was paying attention to me. All human thoughts still swirled around the boy who was condemned to die in little more than an hour’s time.

I hid in my car.

I didn’t like to think of myself having to hide. How cowardly that sounded. But it was unquestionably the case now.

I didn’t have enough discipline left to be around humans now. Focusing so much of my efforts on not killing _one_ of them left me no resources to resist the others. What a waste that would be. If I were to give in to the monster, I might as well make it worth the defeat.

I played a CD of music that usually calmed me, but it did little for me now. No, what helped most now was the cool, wet, clean air that drifted with the light rain through my open windows. Though I could remember the scent of Beau Swan’s blood with perfect clarity, inhaling the clean air was like washing out the inside of my body from its infection.

I was sane again. I could think again. And I could fight again. I could fight against what I didn’t want to be.

I didn’t have to go to his home. I didn’t have to kill him. Obviously, I was a rational, thinking creature, and I had a choice. There was always a choice.

It hadn’t felt that way in the classroom...but I was away from him now. Perhaps, if I avoided him very, very carefully, there was no need for my life to change. I had things ordered the way I liked them now. Why should I let some aggravating and delicious nobody ruin that?

I didn’t _have_ to disappoint my father. I didn’t have to cause my mother stress, worry...pain. Yes, it would hurt my adopted mother, too. And Esme was so gentle, so tender and soft. Causing someone like Esme pain was truly inexcusable.

How ironic that I’d wanted to protect this human boy from the paltry, toothless threat of his classmates’ thoughts. I was the last person who would ever stand as a protector for Beauregard Swan. He would never need protection from anything more than he needed it from me.

Where was Alice, I suddenly wondered? Hadn’t she seen me killing the Swan boy in a multitude of ways? Why hadn’t she come to help—to stop me or help me clean up the evidence, whichever? Was she so absorbed with watching for trouble with Jasper that she’d missed this much more horrific possibility? Was I stronger than I thought? Would I really not have done anything to the boy?

No. I knew that wasn’t true. Alice must be concentrating on Jasper very hard.

I searched in the direction I knew she would be, in the small building used for English classes. It did not take me long to locate her familiar ‘voice.’ And I was right. Her every thought was turned to Jasper, watching his small choices with minute scrutiny.

I wished I could ask her advice, but at the same time, I was glad she didn’t know what I was capable of. That she was unaware of the massacre I had considered in the last hour.

I felt a new burn through my body—the burn of shame. I didn’t want any of them to know.

If I could avoid Beau Swan, if I could manage not to kill him—even as I thought that, the monster writhed and gnashed his teeth in frustration—then no one would have to know. If I could keep away from his scent...

There was no reason why I shouldn’t try, at least. Make a good choice. Try to be what Carlisle thought I was.

The last hour of school was almost over. I decided to put my new plan into action at once. Better than sitting here in the parking lot where he might pass me and ruin my attempt. Again, I felt the unjust hatred for the boy. I hated that he had this unconscious power over me. That he could make me be something I reviled.

I walked swiftly—a little too swiftly, but there were no witnesses—across the tiny campus to the office. There was no reason for Beau Swan to cross paths with me. He would be avoided like the plague he was.

The office was empty except for the secretary, the one I wanted to see.

She didn’t notice my silent entrance.

“Mrs. Cope?”

The woman with the unnaturally red hair looked up and her eyes widened. It always caught them off guard, the little markers they didn’t understand, no matter how many times they’d seen one of us before.

“Oh,” she gasped, a little flustered. She smoothed her shirt. _Silly,_ she thought to herself. _He’s almost young enough to be my son. Too young to think of that way..._

“Hello, Edward. What can I do for you?” Her eyelashes fluttered behind her thick glasses.

Uncomfortable. But I knew how to be charming when I wanted to be. It was easy, since I was able to know instantly how any tone or gesture was taken.

I leaned forward, meeting her gaze as if I were staring deeply into her depthless, small brown eyes. Her thoughts were already in a flutter. This should be simple.

“I was wondering if you could help me with my schedule,” I said in the soft voice I reserved for not scaring humans.

I heard the tempo of her heart increase.

“Of course, Edward. How can I help?” _Too young, too young,_ she chanted to herself. Wrong, of course. I was older than her grandfather. But according to my driver’s license, she was right.

“I was wondering if I could move from my biology class to a senior level science? Physics, perhaps?”

“It there a problem with Mrs. Banner, Edward?”

“Not at all, it’s just that I’ve already studied this material...”

“In that accelerated school you all went to in Alaska, right.” Her thin lips pursed as she considered this. _They should all be in college. I’ve heard the teachers complain. Perfect four point ohs, never a hesitation with a response, never a wrong answer on a test—like they’ve found some way to cheat in every subject. Mr. Varner would rather believe that anyone was cheating than think a student was smarter than him... I’ll bet their mother tutors them..._ “Actually, Edward, physics is pretty much full right now. Mrs. Banner hates to have more than twenty-five students in a class—”

“I wouldn’t be any trouble.”

 _Of course not. Not a perfect Cullen._ “I know that, Edward. But there just aren’t enough seats as it is...”

“Could I drop the class, then? I could use the period for independent study.”

“Drop biology?” He mouth fell open. _That’s crazy. How hard is it to sit through a subject you already know? There_ must _be a problem with Mrs. Banner. I wonder if I should talk to Betty about it?_ “You won’t have enough credits to graduate.”

“I’ll catch up next year.”

“Maybe you should talk to your parents about that.”

The door opened behind me, but who ever it was did not think of me, so I ignored the arrival and concentrated on Mrs. Cope. I leaned slightly closer, and held my eyes a little wider. This would work better if they were gold instead of black. The blackness frightened people, as it should.

“Please, Mrs. Cope?” I made my voice as smooth and compelling as it could be— and it could be considerably compelling. “Isn’t there some other section I could switch to? I’m sure there has to be an open slot somewhere? Sixth hour biology can’t be the only option...”

I smiled at her, careful not to flash my teeth so widely that it would scare her, letting the expression soften my face.

Her heart drummed faster. _Too young,_ she reminded herself frantically. “Well, maybe I could talk to Betty—I mean Mrs. Banner. I could see if—”

A second was all it took to change everything: the atmosphere in the room, my mission here, the reason I leaned toward the red-haired woman... What had been for one purpose before was now for another.

A second was all it took for Samantha Wells to open the door and place a signed tardy slip in the basket by the door, and hurry out again, in a rush to be away from school. A second was all it took for the sudden gust of wind through the open door to crash into me. A second was all it took for me to realize why that first person through the door had not interrupted me with his thoughts.

I turned, though I did not need to make sure. I turned slowly, fighting to control the muscles that rebelled against me.

Beau Swan stood with his back pressed to the wall beside the door, a piece of paper clutched in his hands. His eyes were even wider than usual as he took in my ferocious, inhuman glare.

The smell of his blood saturated every particle of air in the tiny, hot room. My throat burst into flames.

The monster glared back at me from the mirror of his eyes again, a mask of evil.

My hand hesitated in the air above the counter. I would not have to look back in order to reach across it and slam Mrs. Cope’s head into her desk with enough force to kill her. Two lives, rather than twenty. A trade.

The monster waited anxiously, hungrily, for me to do it.

But there was always a choice—there _had_ to be.

I cut off the motion of my lungs, and fixed Carlisle’s face in front of my eyes. I turned back to face Mrs. Cope, and heard her internal surprise at the change in my expression. She shrank away from me, but her fear did not form into coherent words.

Using all the control I’d mastered in my decades of self-denial, I made my voice even and smooth. There was just enough air left in my lungs to speak once more, rushing through the words.

“Never mind, then. I can see that it’s impossible. Thank you so much for your help.”

I spun and launched myself from the room, trying not to feel the warm-blooded heat of the boy’s body as I passed within inches of it.

I didn’t stop until I was in my car, moving too fast the entire way there. Most of the humans had cleared out already, so there weren’t a lot of witnesses. I heard a sophomore, D.J. Garrett, notice, and then disregard...

_Where did Cullen come from—it was like he just came out of thin air... There I go, with the imagination again. Mom always says..._

When I slid into my Volvo, the others were already there. I tried to control my breathing, but I was gasping at the fresh air like I’d been suffocated.

“Edward?” Alice asked, alarm in her voice.

I just shook my head at her.

“What the hell happened to you?” Emmett demanded, distracted, for the moment, from the fact that Jasper was not in the mood for his rematch.  
Instead of answering, I threw the car into reverse. I had to get out of this lot before Beau Swan could follow me here, too. My own person demon, haunting me... I swung the car around and accelerated. I hit forty before I was on the road. On the road, I hit seventy before I made the corner.

Without looking, I knew that Emmett, Royal and Jasper had all turned to stare at Alice. She shrugged. She couldn’t see what had passed, only what was coming.

She looked ahead for me now. We both processed what she saw in her head, and we were both surprised.

“You’re leaving?” she whispered.

The others stared at me now.

“Am I?” I hissed through my teeth.

She saw it then, as my resolve wavered and another choice spun my future in a darker direction. “Oh.”

Beau Swan, dead. My eyes, glowing crimson with fresh blood. The search that would follow. The careful time we would wait before it was safe for us to pull out and start again...

“Oh,” she said again. The picture grew more specific. I saw the inside of Chief Swan’s house for the first time, saw Beau in a small kitchen with yellow cupboards, his back to me as I stalked him from the shadows...let the scent pull me toward him...

“Stop!” I groaned, not able to bear more.

“Sorry,” she whispered, her eyes wide.

The monster rejoiced.

And the vision in her head shifted again. An empty highway at night, the trees beside it coated in snow, flashing by at almost two hundred miles per hour.

“I’ll miss you,” she said. “No matter how short a time you’re gone.”

Emmett and Royal exchanged an apprehensive glance.

We were almost to the turn off onto the long drive that led to our home.

“Drop us here,” Alice instructed. “You should tell Carlisle yourself.”

I nodded, and the car squealed to a sudden stop.

Emmett, Royal and Jasper got out in silence; they would make Alice explain when I was gone. Alice touched my shoulder.

“You will do the right thing,” she murmured. Not a vision this time—an order. “He’s Charlie Swan’s only family. It would kill him, too.”

“Yes,” I said, agreeing only with the last part.

She slid out to join the others, her eyebrows pulling together in anxiety. They melted into woods, out of sight before I could turn the car around.

I accelerated back toward town, and I knew the visions in Alice’s head would be flashing from dark to bright like a strobe light. As I sped back to Forks doing ninety, I wasn’t sure where I was going. To say goodbye to my father? Or to embrace the monster inside me?

The road flew away beneath my tires.


	2. Open Book

I leaned back against the soft snow bank, letting the dry powder reshape itself around my weight. My skin cooled to match the air around me, and the tiny pieces of ice felt like velvet under my skin.

The sky above me was clear, brilliant with stars, glowing blue in some places, yellow in others. The stars created majestic, swirling shapes against the black universe—an astounding sight. Exquisitely beautiful. Or rather, it should have been exquisite. Would have been, if I’d been able to really see it.

It wasn’t getting any better. Six days had passed, six days I’d hidden here in the empty Denali wilderness, but I was no closer to freedom than I had been since the first moment that I’d caught his scent.

When I stared up at the jeweled sky, it was as if there were an obstruction between my eyes and their beauty. The obstruction was a face, an ordinary human face, but I couldn’t quite seem to banish it from my mind.

I heard the approaching thoughts before I heard the footsteps that accompanied them. The sound of movement was only a faint whisper against the powder.

I was not surprised that Taras had followed me here. I knew he’d been mulling over this coming conversation for the last few days, putting it off until he was sure of exactly what he wanted to say.

He sprang into sight about sixty yards away, leaping onto the tip of an outcropping of black rock and balancing there on the balls of his bare feet.

Taras’s skin was silver in the starlight, and his long blond hair shone pale, almost pink with its strawberry tint. His amber eyes glinted as he spied me, half- buried in the snow, and his full lips stretched slowly into a smile.

Exquisite. _If_ I’d really been able to see him. I sighed.

He crouched down on the point of the stone, his fingertips touching the rock, his body coiled.

 _Cannonball,_ he thought.

He launched himself into the air; his shape became a dark, twisting shadow as he spun gracefully between me and the stars. He curled himself into a ball just as he struck the piled snow bank beside me.

A blizzard of snow flew up around me. The stars went black and I was buried deep in the feathery ice crystals.

I sighed again, but didn’t move to unearth myself. The blackness under the snow neither hurt nor improved the view. I still saw the same face.

“Edward?”

Then snow was flying again as Taras swiftly disinterred me. He brushed the powder from my unmoving face, not quite meeting my eyes.

“Sorry,” he murmured. “It was a joke.”

“I know. It was funny.”

His mouth twisted down.

“Ivan and Kate said I should leave you alone. They think I’m annoying you.”

“Not at all,” I assured him. “On the contrary, I’m the one who’s being rude—abominably rude. I’m very sorry.”

 _You’re going home, aren’t you?_ He thought.

“I haven’t... entirely... decided that yet.”

 _But you’re not staying here._ His thought was wistful now, sad.

“No. It doesn’t seem to be... helping.”

He grimaced. “That’s my fault, isn’t it?”

“Of course not,” I lied smoothly.

_Don’t be a gentleman._

I smiled.

 _I make you uncomfortable,_ he accused.

“No.”

He raised one eyebrow, his expression so disbelieving that I had to laugh. One short laugh, followed by another sigh.

“All right,” I admitted. “A little bit.”

He sighed, too, and put his chin in his hands. His thoughts were chagrined.

“You’re a thousand times lovelier than the stars, Taras. Of course, you’re already well aware of that. Don’t let my stubbornness undermine your confidence.” I chuckled at the unlikeliness of _that_.

“I’m not used to rejection,” he grumbled, his lower lip pushing out into an attractive pout.

“Certainly not,” I agreed, trying with little success to block out his thoughts as he fleetingly sifted through memories of his thousands of successful conquests. Mostly Taras preferred human men—they were much more populous for one thing, with the added advantage of being soft and warm. And always eager, definitely.

“Incubus,” I teased, hoping to interrupt the images flickering in his head.

He grinned, flashing his teeth. “The original.”

Unlike Carlisle, Taras and his siblings had discovered their consciences slowly. In the end, it was their fondness for human men that turned them against the slaughter. Now the men they loved...lived.

“When you showed up here,” Taras said slowly. “I thought that...”

I’d known what he’d thought. And I should have guessed that he would have felt that way. But I hadn’t been at my best for analytical thinking in that moment.

“You thought that I’d changed my mind.”

“Yes.” He scowled.

“I feel horrible for toying with your expectations, Taras. I didn’t mean to—I wasn’t thinking. It’s just that I left in...quite a hurry.”

“I don’t suppose you’d tell me why...?”

I sat up and wrapped my arms around my legs, curling defensively. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

Taras, Ivan and Kate were very good at this life they’d committed to. Better, in some ways, than even Carlisle. Despite the insanely close proximity they allowed themselves with those who should be—and once were—their prey, they did not make mistakes. I was too ashamed to admit my weakness to Taras.

“Boy troubles?” he guessed, ignoring my reluctance.

I laughed a bleak laugh. “Not the way you mean it.”

He was quiet then. I listened to his thoughts as he ran through different guesses, tried to decipher the meaning of my words.

“You’re not even close,” I told him.

“One hint?” he asked.

“Please let it go, Taras.”

He was quiet again, still speculating. I ignored him, trying in vain to appreciate the stars.

He gave up after a silent moment, and his thoughts pursued a new direction.

_Where will you go, Edward, if you leave? Back to Carlisle?_

“I don’t think so,” I whispered.

Where would I go? I could not think of one place on the entire planet that held any interest for me. There was nothing I wanted to see or do. Because, no matter where I went, I would not be going _to_ anywhere—I would only be running _from_.

I hated that. When had I become such a coward?

Taras threw his leanly muscled arm around my shoulders. I stiffened, but did not flinch out from under his touch. He meant it as nothing more than friendly comfort. Mostly.

“I think that you _will_ go back,” He said, his voice taking on just a hint of his long lost Russian accent. “No matter what it is... or who it is... that is haunting you. You’ll face it head on. You’re the type.”

His thoughts were as certain as his words. I tried to embrace the vision of myself that he carried in his head. The one who faced things head on. It was pleasant to think of myself that way again. I’d never doubted my courage, my ability to face difficulty, before that horrible hour in a high school biology class such a short time ago.

I kissed his cheek, pulling back swiftly when he twisted his face toward mine, his lips already puckered. He smiled ruefully at my quickness.

“Thank you, Taras. I needed to hear that.”

His thoughts turned petulant. “You’re welcome, I guess. I wish you would be more reasonable about things, Edward.”

“I’m sorry, Taras. You know you’re too good for me. I just... haven’t found what I’m looking for yet.”

“Well, if you leave before I see you again... goodbye, Edward.”

“Goodbye, Taras.” As I said the words, I could see it. I could see myself leaving. Being strong enough to go back to the one place where I wanted to be. “Thanks again.”

He was on his feet in one nimble move, and then he was running away, ghosting across the snow so quickly that his feet had no time to sink into the snow; he left no prints behind him. He didn’t look back. My rejection bothered him more than he’d let on before, even in his thoughts. He wouldn’t want to see me again before I left.

My mouth twisted with chagrin. I didn’t like hurting Taras, though his feelings were not deep, hardly pure, and, in any case, not something I could return. It still made me feel less than a gentleman.

I put my chin on my knees and stared up at the stars again, though I was suddenly anxious to be on my way. I knew that Alice would see me coming home, that she would tell the others. This would make them happy—Carlisle and Esme especially. But I gazed at the stars for one more moment, trying to see past the face in my head. Between me and the brilliant lights in the sky, a pair of bewildered silver-gray eyes stared back at me, seeming to ask what this decision would mean for _him_. Of course, I couldn’t be sure if that was really the information his curious eyes sought. Even in my imagination, I couldn’t hear his thoughts. Beau Swan’s eyes continued to question, and an unobstructed view of the stars continued to elude me. With a heavy sigh, I gave up, and got to my feet. If I ran, I would be back to Carlisle’s car in less than an hour...

In a hurry to see my family—and wanting very much to be the Edward that faced things head on—I raced across the starlit snowfield, leaving no footprints.

 

“It’s going to be okay,” Alice breathed. Her eyes were unfocused, and Jasper had one hand lightly under her elbow, guiding her forward as we walked into the rundown cafeteria in a close group. Royal and Emmett led the way, Emmett looking ridiculously like a bodyguard in the middle of hostile territory. Roy looked wary, too, but much more irritated than protective.

“Of course it is,” I grumbled. Their behavior was ludicrous. If I wasn’t positive that I could handle this moment, I would have stayed home.

The sudden shift from our normal, even playful morning—it had snowed in the night, and Emmett and Jasper were not above taking advantage of my distraction to bombard me with slushballs; when they got bored with my lack of response, they’d turned on each other—to this overdone vigilance would have been comical if it weren’t so irritating.

“He’s not here yet, but the way he’s going to come in... he won’t be downwind if we sit in our regular spot.”

“ _Of course_ we’ll sit in our regular spot. Stop it, Alice. You’re getting on my nerves. I’ll be absolutely fine.”

She blinked once as Jasper helped her into her seat, and her eyes finally focused on my face.

“Hmm,” she said, sounding surprised. “I think you’re right.”

“ _Of course_ I am,” I muttered.

I hated being the focus of their concern. I felt a sudden sympathy for Jasper, remembering all the times we’d hovered protectively over him. He met my glance briefly, and grinned.

_Annoying, isn’t it?_

I grimaced at him.

Was it just last week that this long, drab room had seemed so killingly dull to me? That it had seemed almost like sleep, like a coma, to be here?

Today my nerves were stretched tight—piano wires, tensed to sing at the lightest pressure. My senses were hyper-alert; I scanned every sound, every sight, every movement of the air that touched my skin, every thought. Especially the thoughts. There was only one sense that I kept locked down, refused to use. Smell, of course. I didn’t breathe.

I was expecting to hear more about the Cullens in the thoughts that I sifted through. All day I’d been waiting, searching for whichever new acquaintance Beau Swan might have confided in, trying to see the direction the new gossip would take. But there was nothing. No one noticed the five vampires in the cafeteria, just the same as before the new boy had come. Several of the humans here were still thinking of that boy, still thinking the same thoughts from last week. Instead of finding this unutterably boring, I was now fascinated.

Had he said nothing to anyone about me?

There was no way that he had not noticed my black, murderous glare. I had seen him react to it. Surely, I’d scared him silly. I had been convinced that he would have mentioned it to someone, maybe even exaggerated the story a bit to make it better. Given me a few menacing lines.

And then, he’d also heard me trying to get out of our shared biology class. He must have wondered, after seeing my expression, whether he was the cause. A normal boy would have asked around, compared his experience to others, looked for common ground that would explain my behavior so he didn’t feel singled out. Humans were constantly desperate to feel normal, to fit in. To blend in with everyone else around them, like a featureless flock of sheep. The need was particularly strong during the insecure adolescent years. This boy would be no exception to that rule.

But no one at all took any notice of us sitting here, at our normal table. Beau must be exceptionally shy, if he’d confided in no one. Perhaps he had spoken to his father, maybe that was the strongest relationship... though that seemed unlikely, given the fact that he had spent so little time with him throughout his life. He would be closer to his mother. Still, I would have to pass by Chief Swan sometime soon and listen to what he was thinking.

“Anything new?” Jasper asked.

“Nothing. He... must not have said anything.”

All of them raised an eyebrow at this news.

“Maybe you’re not as scary as you think you are,” Emmett said, chuckling. “I bet I could have frightened him better than _that_.” I rolled my eyes at him.

“Wonder why...?” He puzzled again over my revelation about the boy’s unique silence.

“We’ve been over that. I don’t _know_.”

“He’s coming in,” Alice murmured then. I felt my body go rigid. “Try to look human.”

“Human, you say?” Emmett asked.

He held up his right fist, twisting his fingers to reveal the snowball he’d saved in his palm. Of course it had not melted there. He’d squeezed it into a lumpy block of ice. He had his eyes on Jasper, but I saw the direction of his thoughts. So did Alice, of course. When he abruptly hurled the ice chunk at her, she flicked it away with a casual flutter of her fingers. The ice ricocheted across the length of the cafeteria, too fast to be visible to human eyes, and shattered with a sharp crack against the brick wall. The brick cracked, too.

The heads in that corner of the room all turned to stare at the pile of broken ice on the floor, and then swiveled to find the culprit. They didn’t look further than a few tables away. No one looked at us.

“Very human, Emmett,” Royal said scathingly. “Why don’t you punch through the wall while you’re at it?”

“It would look more impressive if you did it, baby.”

I tried to pay attention to them, keeping a grin fixed on my face like I was part of their banter. I did not allow myself to look toward the line where I knew he was standing. But that was all that I was listening to.

I could hear Jessica’s conversation with the new boy, who seemed to be distracted, too, standing motionless in the moving line. I saw, in Jessica’s thoughts, that Beau Swan’s cheeks were once more colored bright pink with blood.

I pulled in short, shallow breaths, ready to quit breathing if any hint of his scent touched the air near me.

Mike Newton was with Jessica and Beau. I heard both his voices, mental and verbal, when he asked Jessica what was wrong with the Swan boy. I didn’t like the way Mike’s thoughts wrapped around Beau, the flicker of already established fantasies that clouded his mind while he watched Beau start and look up from his reverie like he’d forgotten Mike was there.

“Nothing,” I heard Beau say in that quiet, clear voice. It seemed to ring like a bell over the babble in the cafeteria, but I knew that was just because I was listening for it so intently.

“I’ll just get a soda today,” he continued as he moved to catch up with the line.

I couldn’t help flickering one glance in his direction. He was staring at the floor, the blood slowly fading from his face. I looked away quickly, to Emmett, who laughed at the now pained-looking smile on my face.

_You look sick, bro._

I rearranged my features so the expression would seem casual and effortless.

Jessica was wondering aloud about the boy’s lack of appetite. “Aren’t you hungry?”

“Actually, I feel a little sick.” His voice was lower, but still very clear.

Why did it bother me, the protective concern that suddenly emanated from Mike Newton’s thoughts? What did it matter that there was a possessive edge to them? It wasn’t my business if Mike Newton felt unnecessarily anxious for Beau. Perhaps this was the way everyone responded to him. Hadn’t I wanted, instinctively, to protect him, too? Before I’d wanted to kill him, that is...

But _was_ Beau ill?

It was hard to judge—he looked so delicate with his ivory skin... Then I realized that I was worrying, too, just like that dimwitted Mike Newton, and I forced myself not to think about Beau’s health.

Regardless, I didn’t like monitoring him through Mike’s thoughts. I switched to Jessica’s, watching carefully as the three of them chose which table to sit at. Fortunately, they sat with Jessica’s usual companions, at one of the first tables in the room. Not downwind, just as Alice had promised.

Alice elbowed me. _He’s going to look soon, act human._

I clenched my teeth behind my grin.

“Ease up, Edward,” Emmett said. “Honestly. So you kill one human. That’s hardly the end of the world.”

“You would know,” I murmured.

Emmett laughed. “You’ve got to learn to get over things. Like I do. Eternity is a long time to wallow in guilt.”

Just then, Alice tossed a smaller handful of ice that he’d been hiding into Emmett’s unsuspecting face.

He blinked, surprised, and then grinned in anticipation.

“You asked for it,” he said as he leaned across the table and shook his ice- encrusted hair in her direction. The snow, melting in the warm room, flew out from his hair in a thick shower of half-liquid, half-ice.

“Oh, come on!” Roy complained, as he and Alice recoiled from the deluge.

Alice laughed, and we all joined in. I could see in Alice’s head how she’d orchestrated this perfect moment, and I knew that the boy—I should stop thinking of him that way, as if he were the only boy in the world—that _Beau_ would be watching us laugh and play, looking as happy and human and unrealistically ideal as a Norman Rockwell painting.

Alice kept laughing, and held her tray up as a shield. The boy—Beau must still be staring at us.

 _...staring at the Cullens again, I can’t blame him,_ someone thought, catching my attention.

I looked automatically toward the unintentional call, realizing as my eyes found their destination that I recognized the voice—I’d been listening to it so much today.

But my eyes slid right past Jessica, and focused on Beau’s penetrating gaze. He looked away quickly, shifting his shoulders in Jessica’s direction.

What was he thinking? The frustration seemed to be getting more acute as time went on, rather than dulling. I tried—uncertain in what I was doing for I’d never tried this before—to probe with my mind at the silence around him. My extra hearing had always come to me naturally, without asking; I’d never had to work at it. But I concentrated now, trying to break through whatever shield surrounded him.

Nothing but silence.

 _Beau’s certainly seemed to catch Edward’s attention_ Jessica thought, almost giddy at the thought.

“Edward Cullen is staring at you,” she whispered in the Swan boy’s ear, giggling. There was excitement evident in her voice, like she actually thought my attention was a _good_ thing. Laughable.

I listened, too engrossed, to Beau’s response.

“He doesn’t look angry, does he?” he whispered back.

So he _had_ noticed my wild reaction last week. Of course he had.

The question confused Jessica. I saw my own face in her thoughts as she checked my expression, but I did not meet her glance. I was still concentrating on Beau, trying to hear _something_. My intent focus didn’t seem to be helping at all.

“No,” Jess told him, her internal confusion present in her voice. “Should he be?”

“I don’t think he likes me,” Beau whispered back, he shifted uncomfortably. I wondered why. Maybe he _did_ feel sick.

“The Cullens don’t like anybody,” Jess reassured her. “Well, they don’t notice anybody enough to like them.” _They never used to._ Her thought full of amusement. “But he’s still staring at you.”

“Stop looking at him,” Beau said insistently.

Jessica snickered, but did as she was asked.

Beau did not look away from his table for the rest of the hour. I thought— though, of course, I could not be sure—that this was deliberate. It seemed like he wanted to look at me. His body would shift slightly in my direction, his chin would begin to turn, and then he would catch himself, take a deep breath, and stare fixedly at whoever was speaking.

I ignored the other thoughts around Beau for the most part, as they were not, momentarily, about him. Mike Newton was planning a snow fight in the parking lot after school, not seeming to realize that the snow had already shifted to rain. The flutter of soft flakes against the roof had become the more common patter of raindrops. Could he really not hear the change? It seemed loud to me.

When the lunch period ended, I stayed in my seat. The humans filed out, and I caught myself trying to distinguish the sound of his footsteps from the sound of the rest, as if there was something important or unusual about them. How stupid.

My family made no move to leave, either. They waited to see what I would do.

Would I go to class, sit beside the boy where I could smell the absurdly potent scent of his blood and feel the warmth of his pulse in the air on my skin? Was I strong enough for that? Or had I had enough for one day?

“I... _think_ it’s okay,” Alice said, hesitant. “Your mind is set. I _think_ you’ll make it through the hour.”

But Alice knew well how quickly a mind could change.

“Why push it, Edward?” Jasper asked. Though he didn’t want to feel smug that I was the one who was weak now, I could hear that he did, just a little. “Go home. Take it slow.”

“What’s the big deal?” Emmett disagreed. “Either he will or he won’t kill the kid. Might as well get it over with, either way.”

“I don’t want to move yet,” Royal complained. “I don’t want to start over. We’re almost out of high school, Emmett. _Finally_.”

I was evenly torn on the decision. I wanted, wanted badly, to face this head on rather than running away again. But I didn’t want to push myself too far, either. It had been a mistake last week for Jasper to go so long without hunting; was this just as pointless a mistake?

I didn’t want to uproot my family. None of them would thank me for that.

But I wanted to go to my biology class. I realized that I wanted to see Beau’s face again.

That’s what decided it for me. That curiosity. I was angry with myself for feeling it. Hadn’t I promised myself that I wouldn’t let the silence of the boy’s mind make me unduly interested in him? And yet, here I was, most unduly interested.

I wanted to know what he was thinking. His mind was closed, but his eyes were very open. Perhaps I could read them instead.

“No, Roy, I think it really will be okay,” Alice said. “It’s...firming up. I’m ninety-three percent sure that nothing bad will happen if he goes to class.” She looked at me inquisitively, wondering what had changed in my thoughts that made her vision of the future more secure.

Would curiosity be enough to keep Beau Swan alive?

Emmett was right, though—why not get it over with, either way? I would face the temptation head on.

“Go to class,” I ordered, pushing away from the table. I turned and strode away from them without looking back. I could hear Alice’s worry, Jasper’s censure, Emmett’s approval, and Royal’s irritation trailing after me.

I took one last deep breath at the door of the classroom, and then held it in my lungs as I walked into the small, warm space.

I was not late. Mrs. Banner was still setting up for today’s lab. The boy sat at my—at _our_ table, his face down again, staring at the folder he was doodling on. I examined the sketch as I approached, interested in even this trivial creation of his mind, but it was meaningless. Just a random scribbling of loops within loops. Perhaps he was not concentrating on the pattern, but thinking of something else?

I pulled my chair back with unnecessary roughness, letting it scrape across the linoleum; humans always felt more comfortable when noise announced someone’s approach.

I knew he heard the sound; he did not look up, but his hand missed a loop in the design he was drawing, making it unbalanced.

Why didn’t he look up? Probably he was frightened. I must be sure to leave him with a different impression this time. Make him think he’d been imagining things before.

“Hello,” I said in the quiet voice I used when I wanted to make humans more comfortable, forming a polite smile with my lips that would not show any teeth.

He looked up then, his wide gray eyes startled—almost bewildered—and full of silent questions. It was the same expression that had been obstructing my vision for the last week.

As I stared into those oddly warm gray eyes, I realized that the hate—the hate I’d imagined this boy somehow deserved for simply existing—had evaporated. Not breathing now, not tasting his scent, it was hard to believe that anyone so vulnerable could ever justify hatred.

His cheeks began to flush, and he said nothing.

I kept my eyes on his, focusing only on their questioning depths, and tried to ignore the appetizing color of his skin. I had enough breath to speak for a while longer without inhaling.

“My name is Edward Cullen,” I said, though I knew he knew that. It was the polite way to begin. “I didn’t have a chance to introduce myself last week. You must be Beau Swan.”

He seemed confused—there was that little pucker between his eyes again. It took him half a second longer than it should have for him to respond.

“H-How do you know my name?” he demanded, and his voice shook just a little.

I must have truly terrified him. This made me feel guilty; he was just so defenseless. I laughed gently—it was a sound that I knew made humans more at ease. Again, I was careful about my teeth.

“Oh, I think everyone knows your name.” Surely he must have realized that he’d become the center of attention in this monotonous place. “The whole town’s been waiting for you to arrive.”

He grimaced as if this information was unpleasant. I supposed, being shy as he seemed to be, attention would seem like a bad thing to him. Most humans felt the opposite. Though they didn’t want to stand out from the herd, at the same time they craved a spotlight for their individual uniformity.

“No,” he said. “I meant, why did you call me Beau?”

“Do you prefer Beauregard?” I asked, perplexed by the fact that I couldn’t see where this question was leading. I didn’t understand. Surely, he’d made his preference clear many times that first day. Were all humans this incomprehensible without the mental context as a guide?

“No, I like Beau,” he answered, leaning his head slightly to one side. His expression—if I was reading it correctly—was torn between embarrassment and confusion. “But I think Charlie—I mean my dad—must call me Beauregard behind my back. That’s what everyone here seems to know me as.” His skin darkened one shade pinker.

“Oh,” I said lamely, and quickly looked away from his face.

I’d just realized what his questions meant: I had slipped up—made an error. If I hadn’t been eavesdropping on all the others that first day, then I would have addressed him initially by his full name, just like everyone else. He’d noticed the difference.

I felt a pang of unease. It was very quick of him to pick up on my slip. Quite astute, especially for someone who was supposed to be terrified by my nearness.

But I had bigger problems than whatever suspicions about me he might be keeping locked inside his head.

I was out of air. If I were going to speak to him again, I would have to inhale.

It would be hard to avoid speaking. Unfortunately for him, sharing this table made him my lab partner, and we would have to work together today. It would seem odd—and incomprehensibly rude—for me to ignore him while we did the lab. It would make him more suspicious, more afraid...

I leaned as far away from him as I could without moving my seat, twisting my head out into the aisle. I braced myself, locking my muscles in place, and then sucked in one quick chest-full of air, breathing through my mouth alone.

Ahh!

It was genuinely painful. Even without smelling him, I could taste him on my tongue. My throat was suddenly in flames again, the craving every bit as strong as that first moment I’d caught his scent last week.

I gritted my teeth together and tried to compose myself.

“Get started,” Mrs. Banner commanded.  
It felt like it took every single ounce of self-control that I’d achieved in ninety years of hard work to turn back to the boy, who was staring down at the table, and smile. “After you, partner?” I offered.

He looked up at my expression and his face went blank, his eyes wide. Was there something off in my expression? Was he frightened again? He didn’t speak. “Or, I could start, if you wish,” I said quietly.

“No,” he said, and his face went from white to red again. “I’ll go ahead.”

I stared at the equipment on the table, the battered microscope, the box of slides, rather than watch the blood swirl under his skin—his beautiful skin. I took another quick breath, through my teeth, and winced as the taste made my throat ache.

“Prophase,” he said after a quick examination. He started to remove the slide, though he’d barely examined it.

“Do you mind if I look?” Instinctively—stupidly, as if I were one of his kind—I reached out to stop his hand from removing the slide. For one second, the heat of his skin burned into mine. It was like an electric pulse—surely much hotter than a mere ninety-eight point six degrees. The heat shot through my hand and up my arm. He yanked his hand out from under mine.

“I’m sorry,” I muttered through my clenched teeth. Needing somewhere to look, I grasped the microscope and stared briefly into the eyepiece. He was right.

“Prophase,” I agreed.

I was still too unsettled to look at him. Breathing as quietly as I could through my gritted teeth and trying to ignore the fiery thirst, I concentrated on the simple assignment, writing the word on the appropriate line on the lab sheet, and then switching out the first slide for the next.

What was he thinking now? What had that felt like to him, when I had touched his hand? My skin must have been ice cold—repulsive. No wonder he was so quiet.

I glanced at the slide.

“Anaphase,” I said to myself as I wrote it on the second line.

“Mind if I looked?” he asked.

I looked up at him, surprised to see that he was waiting expectantly, one hand half-stretched toward the microscope. He didn’t _look_ afraid. Did he really think I’d gotten the answer wrong?

I couldn’t help but smile at the hopeful look on his face as I slid the microscope toward him.

He stared into the eyepiece with an eagerness that quickly faded. The corners of his mouth turned down.

“Slide three?” he asked, not looking up from the microscope, but holding out his hand. I dropped the next slide into his hand, not letting my skin come anywhere close to his this time. Sitting beside him was like sitting next to a heat lamp. I could feel myself warming slightly to the higher temperature.

He did not look at the slide for long. “Interphase,” he said nonchalantly— perhaps trying a little too hard to sound that way—and pushed the microscope to me. He did not touch the paper, but waited for me to write the answer. I checked—he was correct again.

We finished this way, speaking one word at a time and never meeting each other’s eyes. We were the only ones done—the others in the class were having a harder time with the lab. Mike Newton seemed to be having trouble concentrating—he was trying to watch Beau and me.

 _Wish he’d stayed wherever he went,_ Mike thought, eyeing me sulfurously. Hmm, interesting. I hadn’t realized the boy harbored any ill will towards me. This was a new development, about as recent as Beau’s  arrival it seemed. Even more interesting, I found—to my surprise—that the feeling was mutual.

I looked down at Beau again, bemused by the wide range of havoc and upheaval that, despite his gentle, unthreatening appearance, he was wreaking on my life.

It wasn’t that I couldn’t see what Mike was going on about. He was actually rather attractive... in an unusual way. Better than being handsome, his face was _interesting_. Not quite symmetrical—his chin out of balance with his wide cheekbones, but complimenting his jaw; extreme in the coloring—the light and dark contrast of his skin and his hair; and then there were those beautiful eyes, brimming over with silent secrets...

Eyes that were suddenly boring into mine.

I stared back at him, trying to guess even one of those secrets.

“Did you get contacts?” he asked abruptly.

What a strange question. “No.” I almost smiled at the idea of improving _my_ eyesight.

“Oh,” he mumbled. “I thought there was something different about your eyes.”

I felt suddenly colder again as I realized that I was apparently not the only one attempting to ferret out secrets today.

I shrugged, my shoulders stiff, and glared straight ahead to where the teacher was making her rounds.

Of course there was something different about my eyes since the last time he’d stared into them. To prepare myself for today’s ordeal, today’s temptation, I’d spent the entire weekend hunting, satiating my thirst as much as possible, overdoing it really. I’d glutted myself on the blood of animals, not that it made much difference in the face of the outrageous flavor floating on the air around him. When I’d glared at him last, my eyes had been black with thirst. Now, my body swimming with blood, my eyes were a warmer gold. Light amber from my excessive attempt at thirst-quenching.

Another slip. If I’d seen what he’d meant with his question, I could have just told him yes.

I’d sat beside humans for two years now at this school, and he was the first to examine me closely enough to note the change in my eye color. The others, while admiring the beauty of my family, tended to look down quickly when we returned their stares. They shied away, blocking the details of our appearances in an instinctive endeavor to keep themselves from understanding. Ignorance was bliss to the human mind.

Why did it have to be this boy who would see too much?

Mrs. Banner approached our table. I gratefully inhaled the gush of clean air she brought with her before it could mix with his scent.

“So, Edward,” she said, looking over our answers, “didn’t you think Beauregard should get a chance with the microscope?”

“Beau,” I corrected her reflexively. “Actually, he identified three of the five.”

Mrs. Banner’s thoughts were skeptical as she turned to look at the boy. “Have you done this lab before?”

I watched, engrossed, as he smiled, looking slightly embarrassed. “Not with onion root.”

“Whitefish blastula?” Mrs. Banner probed.

“Yeah.”

This surprised her. Today’s lab was something she’d pulled from a more advanced course. She nodded thoughtfully at the boy. “Were you in an advanced placement program in Phoenix?”

“Yes.”

He was advanced then, intelligent for a human. This did not surprise me.

“Well,” Mrs. Banner said, pursing her lips. “I guess it’s good you two are lab partners.” She turned and walked away mumbling, “So the other kids can get a chance to learn something for themselves,” under her breath. I doubted the boy could hear that. He began scrawling loops across his folder again.

Two slips so far in one half hour. A very poor showing on my part. Though I had no idea at all what the boy thought of me—how much did he fear, how much did he suspect?—I knew I needed to put forth a better effort to leave him with a new impression of me. Something to better drown his memories of our ferocious last encounter.

“It’s too bad about the snow, isn’t it?” I said, repeating the small talk that I’d heard a dozen students discuss already. A boring, standard topic of conversation. The weather—always safe.

He stared at me with obvious doubt in his eyes—an abnormal reaction to my very normal words. “Not really,” he said, surprising me again.

I tried to steer the conversation back to trite paths. He was from a much brighter, warmer place—his skin seemed to reflect that somehow, despite its fairness—and the cold must make him uncomfortable. My icy touch certainly had...

“You don’t like the cold,” I guessed.

“Or the wet,” he agreed.

“Forks must be a difficult place for you to live.” _Perhaps you should not have come here,_ I wanted to add. _Perhaps you should go back where you belong._

I wasn’t sure I wanted that, though. I would always remember the scent of his blood—was there any guarantee that I wouldn’t eventually follow after him? Besides, if he left, his mind would forever remain a mystery. A constant, nagging puzzle.

“You have no idea,” he said in a low voice, glowering past me for a moment.

His answers were never what I expected. They made me want to ask more questions.

“Why did you come here, then?” I demanded, realizing instantly that my tone was too accusatory, not casual enough for the conversation. The question sounded rude, prying.

“It’s... complicated.”

He blinked his wide eyes, leaving it at that, and I nearly imploded out of curiosity—the curiosity burned as hot as the thirst in my throat. Actually, I found that it was getting slightly easier to breathe; the agony was becoming more bearable through familiarity.

“I think I can keep up,” I insisted. Perhaps common courtesy would keep him answering my questions as long as I was rude enough to ask them.

He stared down silently at his hands. This made me impatient; I wanted to gently put my hand under his chin and tilt his head up so that I could read his eyes. But it would be foolish of me—dangerous—to touch his skin again.

He looked up suddenly. It was a relief to be able to see the emotions in his eyes again. He spoke in a rush, hurrying through the words.

“My mother got remarried.”

Ah, this was human enough, easy to understand. Sadness passed through his clear eyes and brought the pucker back between them.

“That doesn’t sound so complex,” I said. My voice was gentle without my working to make it that way. His sadness left me feeling oddly helpless, wishing there was something I could do to make him feel better. A strange impulse. “When did that happen?”

“Last September.” He exhaled heavily—not quite a sigh. I held my breath as his warm breath brushed my face.

“And you don’t like him,” I guessed, fishing for more information.

“No, Phil is fine,” he said, correcting my assumption. There was a hint of a smile now around the corners of his full lips. “Too young, maybe, but nice enough.”

This didn’t fit with the scenario I’d been constructing in my head.

“Why didn’t you stay with them?” I asked, my voice a little too curious. It sounded like I was being nosy. Which I was, admittedly.

“Phil travels a lot. He plays ball for a living.” The little smile grew more pronounced; this career choice amused him.

I smiled, too, without choosing to. I wasn’t trying to make him feel at ease. His smile just made me want to smile in response—to be in on the secret.

“Have I heard of him?” I ran through the rosters of professional ball players in my head, wondering which Phil was his...

“Probably not. He doesn’t play _well_.” Another smile. “Strictly minor league. He moves around a lot.”

The rosters in my head shifted instantly, and I’d tabulated a list of possibilities in less than a second. At the same time, I was imagining the new scenario.

“And your mother sent you here so that she could travel with him,” I said. Making assumptions seemed to get more information out of him than questions did. It worked again. His chin jutted out, and his expression was suddenly stubborn.

“No, she didn’t send me here,” he said, and his voice had a new, hard edge to it. My assumption had upset him, though I couldn’t quite see how. “I sent myself.”

I could not guess at his meaning, or the source behind his pique. I was entirely lost.

So I gave up. There was just no making sense of the boy. He wasn’t like other humans. Maybe the silence of his thoughts and the perfume of his scent were not the only unusual things about him.

“I don’t understand,” I admitted, hating to concede.

He sighed, and stared into my eyes for longer than most normal humans were able to stand.

“She stayed with me at first, but she missed him,” he explained slowly, his tone growing more forlorn with each word. “It made her unhappy... so I decided it was time to spend some quality time with Charlie.”

The tiny pucker between his eyes deepened.

“But now you’re unhappy,” I murmured. I couldn’t seem to stop speaking my hypotheses aloud, hoping to learn from his reactions. This one, however, did not seem as far off the mark.

“And?” he said, as if this was not even an aspect to be considered.

I continued to stare into his eyes, feeling that I’d finally gotten my first real glimpse into his soul. I saw in that one word where he ranked himself among his own priorities. Unlike most humans, his own needs were far down the list.

He was selfless.

As I saw this, the mystery of the person hiding inside this quiet mind began to thin a little.

“That doesn’t seem fair,” I said. I shrugged, trying to seem casual, trying to conceal the intensity of my curiosity.

He laughed, but there was no amusement the sound. “Hasn’t anyone ever told you? Life isn’t fair.”

I wanted to laugh at his words, though I, too, felt no real amusement. I knew a little something about the unfairness of life. “I believe I _have_ heard that somewhere before.”

He stared back at me, seeming confused again. His eyes flickered away, and then came back to mine.

“So that’s all,” he told me.

But I was not ready to let this conversation end. The little V between his eyes, a remnant of his sorrow, bothered me. I wanted to smooth it away with my fingertip. But, of course, I could not touch him. It was unsafe in so many ways.

“You put on a good show.” I spoke slowly, still considering this next hypothesis. “But I’d be willing to bet that you’re suffering more than you let anyone see.”

His made a face, his eyes narrowed. I hoped he would say something, instead he merely shrugged. He didn’t like it when I guessed right. He wasn’t the average martyr—he didn’t want an audience to his pain.

“Am I wrong?”

“Why does it matter to you?” his gray eyes bore straight into mine.

The intensity—the braveness—of his gaze caught me off-guard. “I don’t entirely understand you, that’s all.” I raised an eyebrow at him, more surprised by my own honest answer than anything.

He frowned, as if this perplexed him. “Why would you want to?”

“That’s a very good question,” I admitted, more to myself than to answer him. His discernment was better than mine—he saw right to the core of things while I floundered around the edges, sifting blindly through clues. The details of his very human life should _not_ matter to me. It was wrong for me to care what he thought. Beyond protecting my family from suspicion, human thoughts were not significant.

I was not used to being the less intuitive of any pairing. I relied on my extra hearing too much—I clearly was not as perceptive as I gave myself credit for.

Then he sighed and stared toward the front of the classroom. Something about his frustrated expression was humorous. The whole situation, the whole conversation was humorous. No one had ever been in more danger from me than this boy—at any moment I might, distracted by my ridiculous absorption in the conversation, inhale through my nose and attack him before I could stop myself—and _he_ was irritated because I hadn’t answered his question.

“Am I annoying you?” I asked, smiling at the absurdity of it all.

He glanced at me quickly, and then his eyes seemed to get trapped by my gaze.

“Not exactly,” he told me. “I’m more annoyed at myself. My face is so easy to read—my mother always calls me her open book.” He shrugged again, disgruntled.

I stared at him in amazement. The reason he was upset was because he thought I saw through him _too easily_. How bizarre. I’d never expended so much effort to understand someone in all my life—or rather existence, as _life_ was hardly the right word. I did not truly have a _life_.

“On the contrary,” I disagreed, feeling strangely... wary, as if there were some hidden danger here that I was failing to see. I was suddenly on edge, the premonition making me anxious. “I find you very difficult to read.”

“You must be a good reader then,” he guessed, making his own assumption that was, again, right on the mark.

“Usually,” I agreed.

I smiled at him widely then, letting my lips pull back to expose the rows of gleaming, razor sharp teeth behind them.

It was a stupid thing to do, but I was abruptly, unexpectedly desperate to get some kind of warning through to the boy. His body was closer to me than before, having shifted unconsciously in the course of our conversation. All the little markers and signs that were sufficient to scare off the rest of humanity did not seem to be working on him. Why did he not cringe away from me in terror? Surely he had seen enough of my darker side to realize the danger, intuitive as he seemed to be.

I didn’t get to see if my warning had the intended effect. Mrs. Banner called for the class’s attention just then, and he turned away from me at once. He seemed a little relieved for the interruption, so maybe he understood unconsciously.

I hoped he did.

I recognized the fascination growing inside me, even as I tried to root it out. I could not afford to find Beau Swan interesting. Or rather, _he_ could not afford that. Already, I was anxious for another chance to talk to him. I wanted to know more about his mother, his life before he came here, his relationship with his father. All the meaningless details that would flesh out his character further. But every second I spent with him was a mistake, a risk he shouldn’t have to take.

Absentmindedly, he ran his fingers through his thick hair just at the moment that I allowed myself another breath. A particularly concentrated wave of his scent hit the back of my throat.

It was like the first day—like the wrecking ball. The pain of the burning dryness made me dizzy. I had to grasp the table again to keep myself in my seat. This time I had slightly more control. I didn’t break anything, at least. The monster growled inside me, but took no pleasure in my pain. He was too tightly bound. For the moment.

I stopped breathing altogether, and leaned as far from the boy as I could.

No, I could not afford to find him fascinating. The more interesting I found him, the more likely it was that I would kill him. I’d already made two minor slips today. Would I make a third, one that was _not_ minor?

As soon as the bell sounded, I fled from the classroom—probably destroying whatever impression of politeness I’d halfway constructed in the course of the hour. Again, I gasped at the clean, wet air outside like it was a healing attar. I hurried to put as much distance between myself and the boy as was possible.

Emmett waited for me outside the door of our Spanish class. He read my wild expression for a moment.

 _How did it go?_ He wondered warily.

“Nobody died,” I mumbled.

_I guess that’s something. When I saw Alice ditching there at the end, I thought..._

As we walked into the classroom, I saw his memory from just a few moments ago, seen through the open door of his last class: Alice walking briskly and blank-faced across the grounds toward the science building. I felt his remembered urge to get up and join her, and then his decision to stay. If Alice needed his help, she would ask...

I closed my eyes in horror and disgust as I slumped into my seat. “I hadn’t realized that it was that close. I didn’t think I was going to...I didn’t see that it was that bad,” I whispered.

 _It wasn’t,_ he reassured me. _Nobody died, right?_

“Right,” I said through my teeth. “Not this time.”

_Maybe it will get easier._

“Sure.”

 _Or, maybe you kill him._ He shrugged. _You wouldn’t be the first one to mess up. No one would judge you too harshly. Sometimes a person just smells too good. I’m impressed you’ve lasted this long._

“Not helping, Emmett.”

I was revolted by his acceptance of the idea that I would kill the boy, that this was somehow inevitable. Was it his fault that he smelled so good?

 _I know when it happened to me...,_ he reminisced, taking me back with him half a century, to a country lane at dusk, where a middle-aged women was taking her dried sheets down from a line strung between apple trees. The scent of apples hung heavy in the air—the harvest was over and the rejected fruits were scattered on the ground, the bruises in their skin leaking their fragrance out in thick clouds. A fresh-mowed field of hay was a background to that scent, a harmony. He walked up the lane, all but oblivious to the woman, on an errand for Royal. The sky was purple overhead, orange over the western trees. He would have continued up the meandering cart path and there would have been no reason to remember the evening, except that a sudden night breeze blew the white sheets out like sails and fanned the woman’s scent across Emmett’s face.

“Ah,” I groaned quietly. As if my own remembered thirst was not enough.

_I know. I didn’t last half a second. I didn’t even think about resisting._

His memory became far too explicit for me to stand.

I jumped to my feet, my teeth locked hard enough cut through steel.

“Esta bien, Edward?” Mrs. Goff asked, startled by my sudden movement. I could see my face in her mind, and I knew that I looked far from well.

“Me perdona,” I muttered, as I darted for the door.

“Emmett—por favor, puedas tu ayuda a tu hermano?” she asked, gesturing helplessly toward me as I rushed out of the room.

“Sure,” I heard him say. And then he was right behind me.

He followed me to the far side of the building, where he caught up to me and put his hand on my shoulder.

I shoved his hand away with unnecessary force. It would have shattered the bones in a human hand, and the bones in the arm attached to it.

“Sorry, Edward.”

“I know.” I drew in deep gasps of air, trying to clear my head and my lungs.

“Is it as bad as that?” he asked, trying not to think of the scent and the flavor of his memory as he asked, and not quite succeeding.

“Worse, Emmett, worse.”

He was quiet for a moment.

_Maybe..._

“No, it would not be better if I got it over with. Go back to class, Emmett. I want to be alone.”

He turned without another word or thought and walked quickly away. He would tell the Spanish teacher that I was sick, or ditching, or a dangerously out of control vampire. Did his excuse really matter? Maybe I wasn’t coming back. Maybe I had to leave.

I went to my car again, to wait for school to end. To hide. Again.

I should have spent the time making decisions or trying to bolster my resolve, but, like an addict, I found myself searching through the babble of thoughts emanating from the school buildings. The familiar voices stood out, but I wasn’t interested in listening to Alice’s visions or Royal’s complaints right now. I found Jessica easily, but the boy was not with her, so I continued searching. Mike Newton’s thoughts caught my attention, and I located Beau at last, in gym with him. Mike was unhappy, because I’d spoken to Beau today in biology. He was running over Beau’s response when he’d brought the subject up...

_I’ve never seen him actually talk to anyone for more than a word here or there. Of course he would decide to find Beau interesting. I don’t like the way he looks at Beau. But he didn’t seem too excited about Cullen. What did Beau say? ‘Wonder what was with him last Monday.’ Something like that. Didn’t sound like he cared. It couldn’t have been much of a conversation..._

He talked himself out of his pessimism in that way, cheered by the idea that Beau had not been interested in his exchange with me. This annoyed me quite a bit more than was acceptable, so I stopped listening to him.

I put a CD of violent music into the stereo, and then turned it up until it drowned out other voices. I had to concentrate on the music very hard to keep myself from drifting back to Mike Newton’s thoughts, to spy on the unsuspecting boy...

I cheated a few times, as the hour drew to a close. Not spying, I tried to convince myself. I was just preparing. I wanted to know exactly when he would leave the gym, when he would be in the parking lot. I didn’t want him to take me by surprise.

As the students started to file out of the gym doors, I got out of my car, not sure why I did it. The rain was light—I ignored it as it slowly saturated my hair.

Did I want him to see me here? Did I hope he would come to speak to me? What was I doing?

I didn’t move, though I tried to convince myself to get back in the car, knowing my behavior was reprehensible. I kept my arms folded across my chest and breathed very shallowly as I watched him walk slowly toward me, his mouth turning down at the corners. He didn’t look at me. A few times he glanced up at the clouds with a grimace, as if they offended him.

I was disappointed when he reached his car before he had to pass me. Would he have spoken to me? Would I have spoken to him?

He got into a faded red Chevy truck, a rusted behemoth that was older than his father. I watched him start the truck—the old engine roared louder than any other vehicle in the lot—and then hold his hands out toward the heating vents. The cold was uncomfortable to him—he didn’t like it. He ran his fingers through his thick hair. I imagined what the cab of that truck would smell like, and then quickly drove out the thought.

He glanced around as he prepared to back out, and finally looked in my direction. He stared back at me for only half a second, and all I could read in his eyes was surprise before he tore his eyes away and jerked the truck into reverse. And then squealed to a stop again, the back end of the truck missing a collision with Erin Teague’s compact by mere inches.

He stared into his rearview mirror, his mouth hanging open with chagrin. When the other car had pulled past him, he checked all his blind spots twice and then inched out the parking space so cautiously that it made me grin. It was like he thought he was _dangerous_ in his decrepit truck.

The thought of Beau Swan being dangerous to anyone, no matter what he was driving, had me laughing while the boy drove past me, staring straight ahead.


	3. Phenomenon

Truly, I was not thirsty, but I decided to hunt again that night. A small ounce of prevention, inadequate though I knew it to be.

Carlisle came with me; we hadn’t been alone together since I’d returned from Denali. As we ran through the black forest, I heard him thinking about that hasty goodbye last week.

In his memory, I saw the way my features had been twisted in fierce despair. I felt his surprise and sudden worry.

_“Edward?”_

_“I have to go, Carlisle. I have to go_ now _.”_

_“What’s happened?”_

_“Nothing. Yet. But it will, if I stay.”_

He’d reached for my arm. I felt how it had hurt him when I’d cringed away from

his hand.

_“I don’t understand.”_

_“Have you ever...has there ever been a time...”_

I watched myself take a deep breath, saw the wild light in my eyes through the filter of his deep concern.

_“Has any one person ever smelled better to you than the rest of them?_ Much

_better?”_

_“Oh.”_

When I’d known that he understood, my face had fallen with shame. He’d reached out to touch me, ignoring it when I’d recoiled again, and left his hand on my shoulder.

_“Do what you must to resist, son. I will miss you. Here, take my car. It’s faster.”_

He was wondering now if he’d done the right thing then, sending me away. Wondering if he hadn’t hurt me with his lack of trust.

“No,” I whispered as I ran. “That was what I needed. I might so easily have betrayed that trust, if you’d told me to stay.”

“I’m sorry you’re suffering, Edward. But you should do what you can to keep the Swan boy alive. Even if it means that you must leave us again.”

“I know, I know.”

“Why _did_ you come back? You know how happy I am to have you here, but if this is too difficult...”

“I didn’t like feeling a coward,” I admitted.

We’d slowed—we were barely jogging through the darkness now.

“Better that than to put him in danger. He’ll be gone in a year or two.”

“You’re right, I know that.” Contrarily, though, his words only made me more anxious to stay. The boy would be gone in a year or two...

Carlisle stopped running and I stopped with him; he turned to examine my expression.

_But you’re not going to run, are you?_

I hung my head.

_Is it pride, Edward? There’s no shame in—_

“No, it isn’t pride that keeps me here. Not now.”

_Nowhere to go?_

I laughed shortly. “No. That wouldn’t stop me, if I could make myself leave.”

“We’ll come with you, of course, if that’s what you need. You only have to ask. You’ve moved on without complaint for the rest of them. They won’t begrudge you this.”

I raised one eyebrow.

He laughed. “Yes, Royal might, but he owes you. Anyway, it’s much better for us to leave now, no damage done, than for us to leave later, after a life has been ended.” All humor was gone by the end.

I flinched at his words.

“Yes,” I agreed. My voice sounded hoarse.

_But you’re not leaving?_

I sighed. “I should.”

“What holds you here, Edward? I’m failing to see...”

“I don’t know if I can explain.” Even to myself, it made no sense.

He measured my expression for a long moment.

_No, I do not see. But I will respect your privacy, if you prefer._

“Thank you. It’s generous of you, seeing as how I give privacy to no one.” With one exception. And I was doing what I could to deprive him of that, wasn’t I?

_We all have our quirks._ He laughed again. _Shall we?_

He’d just caught the scent of a small herd of deer. It was hard to rally much enthusiasm for what was, even under the best of circumstances, a less than mouthwatering aroma. Right now, with the memory of the boy’s blood fresh in my mind, the smell actually turned my stomach.

I sighed. “Let’s,” I agreed, though I knew that forcing more blood down my throat would help so little.

We both shifted into a hunting crouch and let the unappealing scent pull us silently forward.

It was colder when we returned home. The melted snow had refrozen; it was as if a thin sheet of glass covered everything—each pine needle, each fern frond, each blade of grass was iced over.

While Carlisle went to dress for his early shift at the hospital, I stayed by the river, waiting for the sun to rise. I felt almost swollen from the amount of blood I’d consumed, but I knew the lack of actual thirst would mean little when I sat beside the boy again.

Cool and motionless as the stone I sat on, I stared at the dark water running beside the icy bank, stared right through it.

Carlisle was right. I should leave Forks. They could spread some story to explain my absence. Boarding school in Europe. Visiting distant relatives. Teenage runaway. The story didn’t matter. No one would question too intensely.

It was just a year or two, and then the boy would disappear. He would go on with his life—he would _have_ a life to go on with. He’d go to college somewhere, get older, start a career, perhaps marry someone. I could picture that—I could see him dressed in a fine tuxedo, sharing a first dance with a safe, _human_ partner.

It was odd, the pain that image caused me. I couldn’t understand it. Was I jealous, because he had a future that I could never have? That made no sense. Every one of the humans around me had that same potential ahead of them—a life—and I rarely stopped to envy them.

I should leave him to his future. Stop risking his life. That was the right thing to do. Carlisle always chose the right way. I should listen to him now.

The sun rose behind the clouds, and the faint light glistened off all the frozen glass.

One more day, I decided. I would see him one more time. I could handle that. Perhaps I would mention my pending disappearance, set the story up.

This was going to be difficult; I could feel that in the heavy reluctance that was already making me think of excuses to stay—to extend the deadline to two days, three, four... But I would do the right thing. I knew I could trust Carlisle’s advice. And I also knew that I was too conflicted to make the right decision alone.

Much too conflicted. How much of this reluctance came from my obsessive curiosity, and how much came from my unsatisfied appetite?

I went inside to change into fresh clothes for school.

Alice was waiting for me, sitting on the top step at the edge of the third floor.

_You’re leaving again,_ she accused me.

I sighed and nodded.

_I can’t see where you’re going this time._

“I don’t know where I’m going yet,” I whispered.

_I want you to stay._

I shook my head.

_Maybe Jazz and I could come with you?_

“They’ll need you all the more, if I’m not here to watch out for them. And think of Esme. Would you take half her family away in one blow?”

_You’re going to make her so sad._

“I know. That’s why you have to stay.”

_That’s not the same as having you here, and you know it._

“Yes. But I have to do what’s right.”

_There are many right ways, and many wrong ways, though, aren’t there?_

For a brief moment she was swept away into one of her strange visions; I watched along with her as the indistinct images flickered and whirled. I saw myself mixed in with strange shadows that I couldn’t make out—hazy, imprecise forms. And then, suddenly, my skin was glittering in the bright sunlight of a small open meadow. This was a place I knew. There was a figure in the meadow with me, but, again, it was indistinct, not _there_ enough to recognize. The images shivered and disappeared as a million tiny choices rearranged the future again.

“I didn’t catch much of that,” I told her when the vision went dark.

_Me either. Your future is shifting around so much I can’t keep up with any of it. I_ think _, though..._

She stopped, and she flipped through a vast collection of other recent visions for me. They were all the same—blurry and vague.

“I _think_ something is changing, though,” she said out loud. “Your life seems to be at a crossroads.”

I laughed grimly. “You do realize that you sound like a bogus fortune teller at a carnival now, right?”

She stuck her tiny tongue out at me.

“Today is all right, though, isn’t it?” I asked, my voice abruptly apprehensive.

“I don’t see you killing anyone today,” she assured me.

“Thanks, Alice.”

“Go get dressed. I won’t say anything—I’ll let you tell the others when you’re ready.”

She stood and darted back down the stairs, her shoulders hunched slightly.

_Miss you. Really._

Yes, I would really miss her, too.

It was a quiet ride to school. Jasper could tell that Alice was upset about something, but he knew that if she wanted to talk about it she would have done so already. Emmett and Royal were oblivious, having another of their moments, gazing into each others’ eyes with wonder—it was rather disgusting to watch from the outside. We were all quite aware how desperately in love they were. Or maybe I was just being bitter because I was the only one alone. Some days it was harder than others to live with three sets of perfectly matched lovers. This was one of them.

Maybe they would all be happier without me hanging around, ill-tempered and belligerent as the old man I should be by now.

Of course, the first thing I did when we reached the school was to look for the boy. Just preparing myself again.

Right.

It was embarrassing how my world suddenly seemed to be empty of everything but him—my whole existence centered around him, rather than around myself anymore.

It was easy enough to understand, though, really; after so many years of the same thing every day and every night, any change became a point of absorption.

He had not yet arrived, but could I hear the thunderous chugging of his truck’s engine in the distance. I leaned against the side of the car to wait. Alice stayed with me, while the others went straight to class. They were bored with my fixation—it was incomprehensible to them how any human could hold my interest for so long, no matter how delicious he smelled.

He drove slowly into view, his eyes intent on the road and his hands tight on the wheel. He seemed anxious about something. It took me a second to figure out what that something was, to realize that every human wore the same expression today. Ah, the road was slick with ice, and they were all trying to drive more carefully. I could see he was taking the added risk seriously.

That seemed in line with what little I had learned of his character. I added this to my small list: he was a serious person, a responsible person.

He parked not too far from me, but he hadn’t noticed me standing here yet, staring at him. I wondered what he would do when he did? Blush and walk away?

That was my first guess. But maybe he would stare back. Maybe he would come to talk to me.

I took a deep breath, filling my lungs hopefully, just in case.

He got out of the truck with care, testing the slick ground before he put his weight on it. He didn’t look up, and that frustrated me. Maybe I would go talk to him...

No, that would be wrong.

Instead of turning toward the school, he made his way to the rear of his truck, clinging to the side of the truck bed in a droll way, not trusting his footing. It made me smile, and I felt Alice’s eyes on my face. I didn’t listen to whatever this made her think—I was having too much fun watching the boy check his snow chains. He actually looked in some danger of falling, the way his feet were sliding around. No one else was having trouble—had he parked in the worst of the ice?

He paused there, staring down with a strange expression on his face. It was...tender? As if something about the tire was making him... _emotional?_

Again, the curiosity ached like a thirst. It was as if I _had_ to know what he was thinking—as if nothing else mattered.

I would go talk to him. He looked like he could use a hand anyway, at least until he was off the slick pavement. Of course, I couldn’t offer him that, could I? I hesitated, torn. As adverse as he seemed to be to snow, he would hardly welcome the touch of my cold white hand. I should have worn gloves—

“NO!” Alice gasped aloud.

Instantly, I scanned her thoughts, guessing at first that I had made a poor choice and she saw me doing something inexcusable. But it had nothing to do with me at all.

Tyler Crowley had chosen to take the turn into the parking lot at an injudicious speed. This choice would send him skidding across a patch of ice...

The vision came just half a second before the reality. Tyler’s van rounded the corner as I was still watching the conclusion that had pulled the horrified gasp through Alice’s lips.

No, this vision had nothing to do with me, and yet it had _everything_ to do with me, because Tyler’s van—the tires right now hitting the ice at the worst possible angle—was going to spin across the lot and crush the boy who had become the uninvited focal point of my world.

Even without Alice’s foresight it would have been simple enough to read the trajectory of the vehicle, flying out of Tyler’s control.

The boy, standing in the exactly wrong place at the back of his truck, looked up, bewildered by the sound of the screeching tires. He looked straight into my horror- struck eyes, and then turned to watch his approaching death.

_Not him!_ The words shouted in my head as if they belonged to someone else.

Still locked into Alice’s thoughts, I saw the vision suddenly shift, but I had no time to see what the outcome would be.

I launched myself across the lot, throwing myself between the skidding van and the frozen boy. I moved so fast that everything was a streaky blur except for the object of my focus. He didn’t see me—no human eyes could have followed my flight—still staring at the hulking shape that was about to grind his body into the metal frame of his truck.

I caught him around the waist, moving with too much urgency to be as gentle as he would need me to be. In the hundredth of a second between the time that I yanked his slight form out of the path of death and the time that I crashed into to the ground with him in my arms, I was vividly aware of his fragile, breakable body.

When I heard his head crack against the ice, it felt like I had turned to ice, too.

But I didn’t even have a full second to ascertain his condition. I heard the van behind us, grating and squealing as it twisted around the sturdy iron body of the boy’s truck. It was changing course, arcing, coming for him again—like he was a magnet, pulling it toward us.

“Damn!” the words slid between my clenched teeth.

I had already done too much. As I’d nearly flown through the air to push him out of the way, I’d been fully aware of the mistake I was making. Knowing that it was a mistake did not stop me, but I was not oblivious to the risk I was taking—taking, not just for myself, but for my entire family.

Exposure.

And _this_ certainly wasn’t going to help, but there was no way I was going to allow the van to succeed in its second attempt to take his life.

I dropped him and threw my hands out, catching the van before it could touch him. The force of it hurled me back into the car parked beside his truck, and I could feel its frame buckle behind my shoulders. The van shuddered and shivered against the unyielding obstacle of my arms, and then swayed, balancing unstably on the two far tires.

If I moved my hands, the back tire of the van was going fall onto his legs.

Oh, for the _love_ of _all_ that was _holy_ , would the catastrophes never end? Was there anything else that could go wrong? I could hardly sit here, holding the van in the air, and wait for rescue. Nor could I throw the van away—there was the driver to consider, his thoughts incoherent with panic.

With an internal groan, I shoved the van so that it rocked away from us for an instant. As it fell back toward me, I caught it under the frame with my right hand while I wrapped my left arm around the boy’s waist again and drug him out from under the van, pulling him tight up against my side. His body moved limply as I swung him around so that his legs would be in the clear—was he conscious? How much damage had I done to him in my impromptu rescue attempt?

I let the van drop, now that it could not hurt him. It crashed to the pavement, all the windows shattering in unison.

I knew that I was in the middle of a crisis. How much had he seen? Had any other witnesses watched me materialize at his side and then juggle the van while I tried to keep him out from under it? These questions _should_ be my biggest concern.

But I was too anxious to really care about the threat of exposure as much as I should. Too panic-stricken that I might have injured him myself in my effort to protect him. Too frightened to have him this close to me, knowing what I would smell if I allowed myself to inhale. Too aware of the heat of his soft body, pressed against mine—even through the double obstacle of our jackets, I could feel that heat...

The first fear was the greatest fear. As the screaming of the witnesses erupted around us, I leaned down to examine his face, to see if he was conscious—hoping fiercely that he was not bleeding anywhere.

His eyes were open, staring in shock.

“Beau?” I asked urgently. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine.” He said the words automatically in a dazed voice.

Relief, so exquisite it was nearly pain, washed through me at the sound of his voice. I sucked in a breath through my teeth, and did not mind the accompanying burn in my throat. I almost welcomed it.

He struggled to sit up, but I was not ready to release him. It felt somehow...safer? Better, at least, having him tucked into my side.

“Be careful,” I warned him. “I think you hit your head pretty hard.”

There had been no smell of fresh blood—a mercy, that—but this did not rule out internal damage. I was abruptly anxious to get him to Carlisle and a full compliment of radiology equipment.

“Ow,” he said, his tone comically shocked as he realized I was right about his head.

“That’s what I thought.” Relief made it funny to me, made me almost giddy.

“How in the...” His voice trailed off, and his eyelids fluttered. “How did you get over here so fast?”

The relief turned sour, the humor vanished. He _had_ noticed too much.

Now that it appeared that he was in decent shape, the anxiety for my family became severe.

“I was standing right next to you, Beau.” I knew from experience that if I was very confident as I lied, it made any questioner less sure of the truth.

He struggled to move again, and this time I allowed it. I needed to breathe so that I could play my role correctly. I needed space from his warm-blooded heat so that it would not combine with his scent to overwhelm me. I slid away from him, as far as was possible in the small space between the wrecked vehicles.

He stared up at me, and I stared back. To look away first was a mistake only an incompetent liar would make, and I was not an incompetent liar. My expression was smooth, benign... It seemed to confuse him. That was good.

The accident scene was surrounded now. Mostly students, children, peering and pushing through the cracks to see if any mangled bodies were visible. There was a babble of shouting and a gush of shocked thought. I scanned the thoughts once to make sure there were no suspicions yet, and then tuned it out and concentrated only on him.

He was distracted by the bedlam. He glanced around, his expression still stunned, and tried to get to his feet.

I put my hand lightly on his shoulder to hold him down.

“Just stay put for now.” He _seemed_ alright, but should he really be moving his neck? Again, I wished for Carlisle. My years of theoretical medical study were no match for his centuries of hands-on medical practice.

“But it’s cold,” he objected.

He had almost been crushed to death two distinct times and crippled one more, and it was the cold that worried him. A chuckle slid through my teeth before I could remember that the situation was not funny.

Beau blinked, and then his eyes focused on my face. “You were over there.”

That sobered me again.

His expression did not falter, his pale gray eyes stayed locked on my face. “You were by your car.”

“No, I wasn’t.”

“I saw you,” he insisted; his eyes continue to probe my face.

“Beau, I was standing with you, and I pulled you out of the way.”

I stared deeply into those beautiful, wide eyes, trying to will him into accepting my version— the only rational version on the table.

“No… but,” His voice faltered for a brief moment. “That’s not what happened.” His jaw set; defiant, resolved.

I tried to stay calm, to not panic. If only I could keep him quiet for a few moments, to give me a chance to destroy the evidence....and undermine his story by disclosing his head injury.

Shouldn’t it be easy to keep this silent, secretive boy quiet? If only he would trust me, just for a few moments...

“Please, Beau,” I said, and my voice was too intense, because I suddenly _wanted_ him to trust me. Wanted it badly, and not just in regard to this accident. A stupid desire. What sense would it make for him to trust _me_?

“Why?” he demanded.

“Trust me,” I pleaded.

“Will you promise to explain everything to me later?”

It made me angry to have to lie to him again, when I so much wished that I could somehow deserve his trust. So, when I answered him, it was a retort. “Fine.”

“Fine,” he echoed in the same tone.

While the rescue attempt began around us—adults arriving, authorities called, sirens in the distance—I tried to ignore the boy and get my priorities in the right order. I searched through every mind in the lot, the witnesses and the latecomers both, but I could find nothing dangerous. Many were surprised to see me here beside Beau, but all concluded—as there was no other possible conclusion—that they had just not noticed me standing by him before the accident.

He was the only one who didn’t accept the easy explanation, but he would be considered the least reliable witness. He had been frightened, traumatized, not to mention sustaining the blow to the head. Possibly in shock. It would be acceptable for his story to be confused, wouldn’t it? No one would give it much credence above so many other spectators...

I winced when I caught the thoughts of Royal, Jasper and Emmett, just arriving on the scene. There would be hell to pay for this tonight.

I wanted to iron out the indention my shoulders had made against the tan car, but the boy was too close. I’d have to wait till he was distracted.

It was frustrating to wait—so many eyes on me—as the humans struggled with the van, trying to pull it away from us. I might have helped them, just to speed the process, but I was already in enough trouble and the boy had sharp eyes. Finally, they were able to shift it far enough away for the EMTs to get to us with their stretchers.

A familiar, grizzled face appraised me.

“Hey, Edward,” Brett Warner said. He was also a registered nurse, and I knew him well from the hospital. It was a stroke of luck—the only luck today—that he was the first through to us. In his thoughts, he was noting that I looked alert and calm. “You okay, kid?”

“Perfect, Brett. Nothing touched me. But I’m afraid Beau here might have a concussion. He really hit his head when I yanked him out of the way...”

Brett turned his attention to the boy, who shot me a fierce look of betrayal. Oh, that was right. He was the quiet martyr—he’d prefer to suffer in silence.

He did not contradict my story immediately, though, and this made me feel easier.

The next EMT tried to insist that I allow myself to be treated, but it wasn’t too difficult to dissuade him. I promised I would let my father examine me, and he let it go. With most humans, speaking with cool assurance was all that was needed. Most humans, just not Beau, of course. Did he fit into _any_ of the normal patterns?

As they put a neck brace on him—and his face flushed scarlet with embarrassment—I used the moment of distraction to quietly rearrange the shape of the dent in the tan car with the back of my foot. Only my siblings noticed what I was doing, and I heard Emmett’s mental promise to catch anything I missed.

Grateful for his help—and more grateful that Emmett, at least, had already forgiven my dangerous choice—I was more relaxed as I climbed into the front seat of the ambulance next to Brett.

The chief of police arrived before they had gotten Beau into the back of the ambulance.

Though Beau’s father’s thoughts were past words, the panic and concern emanating out of the man’s mind drowned out just about every other thought in the vicinity. Wordless anxiety and guilt, a great swell of them, washed out of him as he saw his only son on the gurney.

Washed out of him and through me, echoing and growing stronger. When Alice had warned me that killing Charlie Swan’s son would kill him, too, she had not been exaggerating.

My head bowed with that guilt as I listened to his panicked voice.

“Beau!” he shouted.

“I’m completely fine, Char—Dad.” Beau sighed. “There’s nothing wrong with me.”

His assurance barely soothed his father’s dread. Chief Swan turned at once to the closest EMT and demanded more information.

I wasn’t until I heard him speaking, forming perfectly coherent sentences despite his panic, that I realized that his anxiety and concern were _not_ wordless. I just...could not hear the exact words.

Hmm. Charlie Swan was not as silent as his son, but I could see where he got it from. Interesting.

I’d never spent much time around the town’s police chief. I’d always taken him for a man of slow thought—now I realized that _I_ was the one who was slow. His thoughts were partially concealed, not absent. I could only make out the tenor, the tone of them...

I wanted to listen harder, to see if I could find in this new, lesser puzzle the key to the boy’s secrets. But Beau was loaded into the back by then, and the ambulance was on its way.

It was hard to tear myself away from this possible solution to the mystery that had come to obsess me. But I had to think now—to look at what had been done today from every angle. I had to listen, to make sure that I had not put us all in so much danger that we would have to leave immediately. I had to concentrate.

There was nothing in the thoughts of the EMTs to worry me. As far as they could tell, there was nothing seriously wrong with the boy. And Beau was sticking to the story I’d provided, thus far.

The first priority, when we reached the hospital, was to see Carlisle. I hurried through the automatic doors, but I was unable to totally forgo watching after Beau; I kept an eye on him through the paramedics’ thoughts.

It was easy to find my father’s familiar mind. He was in his small office, all alone—the second stroke of luck in this luckless day.

“Carlisle.”

He’d heard my approach, and he was alarmed as soon as he saw my face. He jumped to his feet, his face paling to bone white. He leaned forward across the neatly organized walnut desk.

_Edward—you didn’t—_

“No, no, it’s not that.”

He took deep breath. _Of course not. I’m sorry I entertained the thought. Your eyes, of course, I should have known..._ He noted my still-golden eyes with relief.

“He’s hurt, though, Carlisle, probably not seriously, but—”

“What happened?”

“A stupid car accident. He was in the wrong place at the wrong time. But I couldn’t just stand there—let it crush him—”

_Start over, I don’t understand. How were you involved?_

“A van skidded across the ice,” I whispered. I stared at the wall behind him while I spoke. Instead of a throng of framed diplomas, he had one simple oil painting—a favorite of his, an undiscovered Hassam. “He was in the way. Alice saw it coming, but there wasn’t time to do anything but really _run_ across the lot and shove him out of the way. No one noticed... except for him. I had to stop the van, too, but again, nobody saw that... besides him. I’m... I’m sorry Carlisle. I didn’t mean to put us in danger.”

He circled the desk and put his hand on my shoulder.

_You did the right thing. And it couldn’t have been easy for you. I’m proud of you, Edward._

I could look him in the eye then. “He knows there’s something... wrong with me.”

“That doesn’t matter. If we have to leave, we leave. What has he said?”

I shook my head, a little frustrated. “Nothing yet.”

_Yet?_

“He agreed to my version of events—but he’s expecting an explanation.”

He frowned, pondering this.

“He hit his head—well, I did that,” I continued quickly. “I knocked him to the ground fairly hard. He seems fine, but... I don’t think it will take much to discredit his account.”

I felt like a cad just saying the words.

Carlisle heard the distaste in my voice. _Perhaps that won’t be necessary. Let’s see what happens, shall we? It sounds like I have a patient to check on._

“Please,” I said. “I’m so worried that I hurt him.”

Carlisle’s expression brightened. He smoothed his fair hair—just a few shades lighter than his golden eyes—and he laughed.

_It’s been an interesting day for you, hasn’t it?_ In his mind, I could see the irony, and it was humorous, at least to him. Quite the reversal of roles. Somewhere during that short thoughtless second when I’d sprinted across the icy lot, I had transformed from killer to protector.

I laughed with him, remembering how sure I’d been that Beau would never need protecting from anything more than myself. There was an edge to my laugh because, van notwithstanding, that was still entirely true.

I waited alone in Carlisle’s office—one of the longer hours I had ever lived—listening to the hospital full of thoughts.

Tyler Crowley, the van’s driver, looked to be hurt worse than Beau, and the attention shifted to him while Beau waited his turn to be X-rayed. Carlisle kept in the background, trusting the PA’s diagnosis that Beau was only slightly injured. This made me anxious, but I knew he was right. One glance at Carlisle’s face and Beau would be immediately reminded of me, of the fact that there was something not right about my family, and that might set him talking.

He certainly had a willing enough partner to converse with. Tyler was consumed with guilt over the fact that he had almost killed the boy, and he couldn’t seem to shut up about it. I could see Beau’s expression through Tyler’s eyes, and it was clear that he wished he would stop. How did Tyler not see that?

There was a tense moment for me when Tyler asked him how he’d gotten out of the way.

I waited, not breathing, as Beau hesitated.

_“Umm...”_ Tyler heard him say. Then he paused for so long that Tyler wondered if his question had confused him. Finally, he went on. _“Edward shoved me out of the way.”_

I exhaled. And then my breathing accelerated. I’d never heard Beau speak my name before. I liked the way it sounded—even just hearing it through Tyler’s thoughts. I wanted to hear it for myself...

_“Edward Cullen,”_ Beau said, when Tyler didn’t realize who he meant. I found myself at the door, my hand on the knob. The desire to see him was growing stronger. I had to remind myself of the need for caution.

_“He was standing next to me.”_

“ _Cullen?” Huh. That’s weird. “I didn’t see him.” I could have sworn... “Wow, it was all so fast, I guess. Is he okay?”_

_“I think so. He’s here somewhere, but they didn’t make him use a stretcher.”_

I saw the thoughtful look on Beau’s face, the suspicious tightening of his eyes, but these little changes in his expression were lost on Tyler.

_He’s hot,_ Tyler was thinking, almost in surprise. _Even all messed up. Definitely not my usual type, still... I should take him out. Make up for today... I bet he’d like that._

I was out in the hall, then, halfway to the emergency room, without thinking for one second about what I was doing. Luckily, the nurse entered the room before I could— it was Beau’s turn for X-rays. I leaned against the wall in a dark nook just around the corner, and tried to get a grip on myself while he was wheeled away.

It didn’t matter that Tyler thought he was attractive. Anyone would notice that. There was no reason for me to feel...how _did_ I feel? Annoyed? Or was _angry_ closer to the truth? That made no sense at all.

I stayed where I was for as long as I could, but impatience got the best of me and I took a back way around to the radiology room. He’d already been moved back to the ER, but I was able to take a peek at his x-rays while the nurse’s back was turned.

I felt calmer when I had. His head was fine. I hadn’t hurt him, not really. Carlisle caught me there.

_You look better,_ he commented.

I just looked straight ahead. We weren’t alone, the halls full of orderlies and

visitors.

_Ah, yes._ He stuck the boy’s x-rays to the lightboard, but I didn’t need a second look.

_I see. He’s absolutely fine. Well done, Edward._

The sound of my father’s approval created a mixed reaction in me. I would have been pleased, except that I knew that he would not approve of what I was going to do now. At least, he would not approve if he knew my real motivations...

“I think I’m going to go talk to him—before he sees you,” I murmured under my breath. “Act natural, like nothing happened. Smooth it over.” All acceptable reasons.

Carlisle nodded absently, still looking over the x-rays. “Good idea. Hmm.”

I looked to see what had his interest.

_Look at all the healed contusions! How many times did his mother drop him?_

Carlisle laughed to himself at his joke.

“I’m beginning to think the boy just has really bad luck. Always in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

_Forks is certainly the wrong place for him, with you here._

I flinched.

_Go ahead. Smooth things over. I’ll join you momentarily._

I walked away quickly, feeling guilty. Perhaps I was too good a liar, if I could fool Carlisle.

When I got to the ER, Tyler was mumbling under his breath, still apologizing. The boy was trying to escape his remorse by pretending to sleep. His eyes were closed, but his breathing was not even, and now and then his fingers would twitch impatiently.

I stared at his face for a long moment. This was the last time I would see him. That fact triggered an acute aching in my chest. Was it because I hated to leave any puzzle unsolved? That did not seem like enough of an explanation.

Finally, I took a deep breath and moved into view.

When Tyler saw me, he started to speak, but I put one finger to my lips.

“Is he sleeping?” I murmured.

Beau’s eyes snapped open and focused on my face. They widened momentarily, and then narrowed in anger or suspicion. I remembered that I had a role to play, so I smiled at him as if nothing unusual had happened this morning—besides a blow to his head and a bit of imagination run wild.

“Hey, Edward,” Tyler said. “I’m really sorry—”

I raised one hand to halt his apology. “No blood, no foul,” I said wryly. Without thinking, I smiled too widely at my private joke.

It was amazingly easy to ignore Tyler, lying no more than four feet from me, covered in fresh blood. I’d never understood how Carlisle was able to do that—ignore the blood of his patients in order to treat them. Wouldn’t the constant temptation be so distracting, so dangerous...? But, now... I could see how, if you were focusing on something else _hard_ enough, the temptation was nothing at all.

Even fresh and exposed, Tyler’s blood had nothing on Beau’s.

I kept my distance from him, seating myself on the foot of Tyler’s mattress.

“So, what’s the verdict?” I asked him.

He continued to watch me carefully “There’s nothing wrong with me at all, but they won’t let me go.” He sighed. “How come you aren’t strapped to a gurney like the rest of us?”

His impatience made me smile again.

I could hear Carlisle in the hall now.

“It’s all about who you know,” I said lightly. “But don’t worry, I came to spring you.”

I watched his reaction carefully as my father entered the room. His eyes widened and his mouth actually fell open in surprise. I groaned internally. Yes, he’d certainly noticed the resemblance.

“So, Mister Swan, how are you feeling?” Carlisle asked. He had a wonderfully soothing beside manner that put most patients at ease within moments. I couldn’t tell how it affected Beau.

“I’m fine,” he said quietly.

Carlisle clipped his X-rays to the lightboard by the bed. “Your X-rays look good. Does your head hurt? Edward said you hit it pretty hard.”

He sighed, and said, “I’m fine,” again. Then he narrowed his eyes at me and I glanced away from his gaze.

Carlisle stepped closer to the boy and ran gentle fingers over his scalp until he found the bump under his hair.

I was caught off guard by the wave of emotion that crashed over me.

I had seen Carlisle work with humans a thousand times. Years ago, I had even assisted him informally—though only in situations where blood was not involved. So it wasn’t a new thing to me, to watch him interact with the boy as if he were as human as he was. I’d envied his control many times, but that was not the same as this emotion. I envied him more than his control. I ached for the difference between Carlisle and me— that he could touch him so gently, without fear, knowing he would never harm him...

Beau winced, and I twitched in my seat. I had to concentrate for a moment to keep my relaxed posture.

“Tender?” Carlisle asked.

His chin jerked up a fraction. “Not really,” he said.

Another small piece of his character fell into place: he was brave. He didn’t like to show weakness.

Possibly the most vulnerable creature I’d ever seen, and he didn’t want to seem weak. A chuckle slid through my lips. He shot another glare at me.

“Well,” Carlisle said. “Your father is in the waiting room—you can go home with him now. But come back if you feel dizzy or have trouble with your eyesight at all.”

His father was here? I swept through the thoughts in the crowded waiting room, but I couldn’t pick his subtle mental voice out of the group before Beau was speaking again, his face anxious.

“Can’t I go back to school?”

“Maybe you should take it easy today,” Carlisle suggested.

His eyes flickered back to me. “Does _he_ get to go to school?”

Act normal, smooth things over...ignore the way it feels when he looks me in the eye...

“Someone has to spread the good news that we survived,” I said.

“Actually,” Carlisle corrected, “most of the school seems to be in the waiting room.”

I anticipated his reaction this time—his aversion to attention. He didn’t disappoint.

“Oh no,” he moaned.

I liked that I’d finally guessed right. I was beginning to understand him...

“Do you want to stay?” Carlisle asked.

“No, no!” he said quickly, swinging his legs over the side of the mattress and sliding down till his feet were on the floor. He stumbled forward, off-balance, into Carlisle’s arms. He caught and steadied him.

Again, the envy flooded through me.

“I’m fine,” the boy said before Carlisle could comment, faint pink in his cheeks. Of course, that wouldn’t bother Carlisle. He made sure Beau was balanced, and then dropped his hands.

“Take some Tylenol for the pain,” he instructed.

“It doesn’t hurt that bad.”

Carlisle smiled as he signed Beau’s chart. “It sounds like you were extremely lucky.”

Beau turned his face slightly, to stare at me with hard eyes. “Lucky Edward happened to be standing next to me.”

“Oh, well, yes,” Carlisle agreed quickly, hearing the same thing in Beau’s voice that I heard. He hadn’t written his suspicions off as imagination. Not yet.

_All yours_ , Carlisle thought. _Handle it as you think best._

“Thanks so much,” I whispered, quick and quiet. Neither human heard me.

Carlisle’s lips turned up a tiny bit at my sarcasm as he turned to Tyler. “I’m afraid that _you’ll_ have to stay with us just a little bit longer,” he said as he began examining the slashes left by the shattered windshield.

Well, I’d made the mess, so it was only fair that I had to deal with it.

Beau walked deliberately toward me, not stopping until he was uncomfortably close. I remembered how I had hoped, before all the mayhem, that he would approach me... This was like a mockery of that wish.

“Can I talk to you for a minute?” He whispered under his breath.

His warm breath brushed my face and I had to stagger back a step. His appeal had not abated one bit. Every time he was near me, it triggered all my worst, most urgent instincts. Venom flowed in my mouth and my body yearned to strike—to wrench him into my arms and crush his throat to my teeth.

My mind was stronger than my body, but only just.

“Your father is waiting for you,” I reminded him, my jaw clenched tight.

He glanced toward Carlisle and Tyler. Tyler was paying us no attention at all, but Carlisle was monitoring my every breath.

_Carefully, Edward._

“I’d like to speak to you alone, if you don’t mind,” Beau insisted in a low voice.

I wanted to tell him that I did mind very much, but I knew I would have to do this eventually. I may as well get on with it.

I was full of so many conflicting emotions as I stalked out of the room, listening to his stumbling footsteps behind me, trying to keep up.

I had a show to put on now. I knew the role I would play—I had the character down: I would be the villain. I would lie and ridicule and be cruel.

It went against all my better impulses—the human impulses that I’d clung to through all these years. I’d never wanted to deserve trust more than in this moment, when I had to destroy all possibility of it.

It made it worse to know that this would be the last memory he would have of me. This was my farewell scene.

I turned on him.

“What do you want?” I asked coldly.

He cringed back slightly from my hostility. His eyes turned bewildered, the expression that had haunted me...

“You owe me an explanation,” he said in a small voice; his ivory face blanched. It was very hard to keep my voice harsh.

“I saved your life—I don’t owe you anything.”

He flinched—it burned like acid to watch my words hurt him.

“You promised,” he whispered. “Why are you acting like this?”

“Beau, you hit your head, you don’t know what you’re talking about.”

His chin came up then, and he glared at me defiantly. “There’s nothing wrong with my head.”

He was angry now, and that made it easier for me. I met his glare, making my face more unfriendly.

“What do you want from me, Beau?”

“I want to know the truth. I want to know why I’m lying for you.” What he wanted was only fair—it frustrated me to have to deny him.

“What do you _think_ happened?” I nearly growled at him.

His words poured out in a torrent. “What I know is that you weren’t anywhere near me—Tyler didn’t see you, either, so don’t tell me I hit my head too hard. That van was going to crush us both—and it didn’t, and your hands left dents in the side of it—and you left a dent in the other car, and you’re not hurt at all—and the van should have smashed my legs, but you were holding it up...” Suddenly, he clenched his teeth together and his eyes were glistening with unshed tears.

I stared at him, my expression derisive, though what I really felt was awe; he had seen everything.

“You think I lifted a van off you?” I asked sarcastically.

He answered with one stiff nod.

My voice grew more mocking. “Nobody will believe that, you know.”

His eyes changed then, for the first time the warmth of his silver-gray eyes become ice-cold, they burned me with their intensity, pierced me like silver daggers. When he answered me, he spoke each word with slow deliberation. “I’m not going to tell anybody.”

He meant it—I could see that in his brilliant eyes. Even furious and betrayed, he would keep my secret.

_Why?_

The shock of it ruined my carefully designed expression for half a second, and then I pulled myself together.

“Then why does it matter?” I asked, working to keep my voice severe.

“It matters to me,” he said intensely. “I don’t like to lie—so there’d better be a good reason why I’m doing it.”

He was asking me to trust him. Just as I wanted him to trust me. But this was a line I could not cross.

My voice stayed callous. “Can’t you just thank me and get it over with?”

“Thank you,” he said, and then he folded his arms across his chest, waiting.

“You’re not going to let it go, are you?”

“No.”

“In that case...” I couldn’t tell him the truth if I wanted to...and I _didn’t_ want to. I’d rather he made up his own story than know what I was, because nothing could be worse than the truth—I was a living nightmare, straight from the pages of a horror novel. “I hope you enjoy disappointment.”

We scowled at each other. It was odd how I had thought him so fragile before, perhaps in body he was the most vulnerable creature I’d ever seen, but his spirit was something else. The intensity that radiated from his eyes was staggering. I had never seen anything like it.

“If you were going to be like this about it,” he finally spoke, the harsh coldness of his eyes had spread to his voice, “why did you even bother?”

His question wasn’t one that I was expecting or prepared to answer. That coupled with the power his eyes seemed to have as they dug into me, I lost my hold on the role I was playing. I felt the mask slip from my face, and I told him—this one time—the truth.

“I don’t know.”

I memorized his face one last time—it was still cold, and angry. His eyes, like gray diamonds, practically shining with questions—and then I turned and walked away from him.


	4. Visions

I went back to school. This was the right thing to do, the most inconspicuous way to behave.

By the end of the day, almost all the other students had returned to class, too. Just Tyler and Beau and a few others—who were probably using the accident as a chance to ditch—remained absent.

It shouldn’t be so hard for me to do the right thing. But, all afternoon, I was gritting my teeth against the urge that had me yearning ditch, too—in order to go find the boy again.

Like a stalker. An obsessed stalker. An obsessed, vampire stalker.

School today was—somehow, impossibly—even more boring than it had seemed just a week ago. Coma-like. It was as if the color had drained from the bricks, the trees, the sky, the faces around me... I stared at the cracks in the walls.

There was another right thing I should be doing...that I was not. Of course, it was also a wrong thing. It all depended on the perspective from which you viewed it.

From the perspective of a Cullen—not just a vampire, but a _Cullen_ , someone who belonged to a family, such a rare state in our world—the right thing to do would have gone something like this:

_“I’m surprised to see you in class, Edward. I heard you were involved in that awful accident this morning.”_

_“Yes, I was, Mrs. Banner, but I was the lucky one.” A friendly smile. “I didn’t get hurt at all... I wish I could say the same for Tyler and Beau.”_

_“How are they?”_

_“I think Tyler is fine...just some superficial scrapes from the windshield glass. I’m not sure about Beau, though.” A worried frown. “He might have a concussion. I heard he was pretty incoherent for a while—seeing things even. I know the doctors were worried...”_

That’s how it should have gone. That’s what I owed my family.

“I’m surprised to see you in class, Edward. I heard you were involved in that awful accident this morning.”

“I wasn’t hurt.” No smile.

Mrs. Banner shifted her weight from foot to foot, uncomfortable.

“Do you have any idea how Tyler Crowley and Beau Swan are? I heard there were some injuries...”

I shrugged. “I wouldn’t know.”

Mrs. Banner cleared her throat. “Er, right...” she said, my cold stare making her voice sound a bit strained.

She walked quickly back to the front of classroom and began her lecture.

It was the wrong thing to do. Unless you looked at it from a more obscure point of view.

It just seemed so...so _unchivalrous_ to slander the boy behind his back, especially when he was proving more trustworthy than I could have dreamed. He hadn’t said anything to betray me, despite having good reason to do so. Would I betray him when he had done nothing but keep my secret?

I had a nearly identical conversation with Mrs. Goff—just in Spanish rather than in English—and Emmett gave me a long look.

_I hope you have a good explanation for what happened today. Roy is on the warpath._

I rolled my eyes without looking at him.

I actually had come up with a perfectly sound explanation. Just suppose I _hadn’t_ done anything to stop the van from crushing the boy... I recoiled from that thought. But if he _had_ been hit, if he’d been mangled and bleeding, the red fluid spilling, wasting on the blacktop, the scent of the fresh blood pulsing through the air...

I shuddered again, but not just in horror. Part of me shivered in desire. No, I would not have been able to watch him bleed without exposing us all in a much more flagrant and shocking way.

It was a perfectly sound excuse...but I wouldn’t use it. It was too shameful. And I hadn’t thought of it until long after the fact, regardless.

_Look out for Jasper,_ Emmett went on, oblivious to my reverie _. He’s not as angry...but he’s more resolved._

I saw what he meant, and for a moment the room swam around me. My rage was so all-consuming that a red haze clouded my vision. I thought I would choke on it.

_JEEZ, EDWARD! GET A GRIP!_ Emmett shouted at me in his head. His hand came down on my shoulder, holding me in my seat before I could jump to my feet. He rarely used his full strength—there was rarely a need, for he was so much stronger than any vampire any of us had ever encountered—but he used it now. He gripped my arm, rather than pushing me down. If he’d been pushing, the chair under me would have collapsed.

_EASY!_ He ordered.

I tried to calm myself, but it was hard. The rage burned in my head.

_Jasper’s not going to do anything until we all talk. I just thought you should know the direction he’s headed._

I concentrated on relaxing, and I felt Emmett’s hand loosen.

_Try not to make_ more _of a spectacle of yourself. You’re in enough trouble as it is._

I took a deep breath and Emmett released me.

I searched around the room routinely, but our confrontation had been so short and silent that only a few people sitting behind Emmett had even noticed. None of them knew what to make of it, and they shrugged it off. The Cullens were freaks—everyone knew that already.

_Damn, kid, you’re a mess,_ Emmett added, sympathy in his tone.

“Bite me,” I muttered under my breath, and I heard his low chuckle.

Emmett didn’t hold grudges, and I probably ought to be more grateful for his easy going nature. But I could see that Jasper’s intentions made sense to Emmett, that he was considering how it might be the best course of action.

The rage simmered, barely under control. Yes, Emmett was stronger than I was, but he’d yet to beat me in a wrestling match. He claimed that this was because I cheated, but hearing thoughts was just as much a part of who I was as his immense strength was a part of him. We were evenly matched in a fight.

A fight? Was that where this was headed? Was I going to fight with my _family_ over a human I barely knew?

I thought about that for a moment, thought about the fragile feel of the boy’s body in my arms in juxtaposition with Jasper, Roy, and Emmett—supernaturally strong and fast, killing machines by nature...

Yes, I would fight for him. Against my family. I shuddered.

But it wasn’t fair to leave him undefended when I was the one who’d put him in danger.

I couldn’t win alone, though, not against the three of them, and I wondered who my allies would be.

Carlisle, certainly. He would not fight anyone, but he would be wholly against Roy’s and Jasper’s designs. That might be all I needed. I would see...

Esme, doubtful. She would not side _against_ me either, and she would hate to disagree with Carlisle, but she would be for any plan that kept her family intact. Her first priority would not be rightness, but me. If Carlisle was the soul of our family, then Esme was the heart. He gave us a leader who deserved following; she made that following into an act of love. We all loved each other—even under the fury I felt toward Jasper and Roy right now, even planning to fight them to save the boy, I knew that I loved them.

Alice... I had no idea. It would probably depend on what she saw coming. She would side with the winner, I imagined.

So, I would have to do this without help. I wasn’t a match for them alone, but I wasn’t going to let the boy be hurt because of me. That might mean evasive action...

My rage dulled a bit with the sudden, black humor. I could imagine how the boy would react to my kidnapping him. Of course, I rarely guessed his reactions right—but what other reaction could he have besides terror?

I wasn’t sure how to manage that, though—kidnapping him. I wouldn’t be able to stand being close to him for very long. Perhaps I would just deliver him back to his mother. Even that much would be fraught with danger. For him.

And also for me, I realized suddenly. If I were to kill him by accident... I wasn’t certain exactly how much pain that would cause me, but I knew it would be multifaceted and intense.

The time passed quickly while I mulled over all the complications ahead of me: the argument waiting for me at home, the conflict with my family, the lengths I might be forced to go to afterward...

Well, I couldn’t complain that life _outside_ this school was monotonous any more. Beau Swan had changed that much.

Emmett and I walked silently to the car when the bell rang. He was worrying about me, and worrying about Royal. He knew whose side he would have to choose in a quarrel, and it bothered him.

The others were waiting for us in the car, also silent. We were a very quiet group. Only I could hear the shouting.

_Idiot! Lunatic! Moron! Jackass! Selfish, irresponsible fool!_ Royal kept up a constant stream of insults at the top of his mental lungs. It made it hard to hear the others, but I ignored him as best I could.

Emmett was right about Jasper. He was sure of his course.

Alice was troubled, worrying about Jasper, flipping through images of the future. No matter which direction Jasper came at the boy, Alice always saw me there, blocking him. Interesting...neither Royal nor Emmett was with him in these visions. So Jasper planned to work alone. That would even things up.

Jasper was the best, certainly the most experienced fighter among us. My one advantage lay in that I could hear his moves before he made them.

I had never fought more than playfully with Emmett or Jasper—just horsing around. I felt sick at the thought of really trying to hurt Jasper...

No, not that. Just to block him. That was all.  
I concentrated on Alice, memorizing Jasper’s different avenues of attack. As I did that, her visions shifted, moving further and further away from the Swan’s house. I was cutting him off earlier...

_Stop that, Edward! It can’t happen this way. I won’t let it._

I didn’t answer her, I just kept watching.

She began searching farther ahead, into the misty, unsure realm of distant possibilities. Everything was shadowy and vague.

The entire way home, the charged silence did not lift. I parked in the big garage off the house; Carlisle’s Mercedes was there, next to Emmett’s big jeep, Roy’s M3 and my Vanquish. I was glad Carlisle was already home—this silence would end explosively, and I wanted him there when that happened.

We went straight to the dining room.

The room was, of course, never used for its intended purpose. But it was furnished with a long oval mahogany table surrounded by chairs—we were scrupulous about having all the correct props in place. Carlisle liked to use it as a conference room. In a group with such strong and disparate personalities, sometimes it was necessary to discuss things in a calm, seated manner.

I had a feeling that the setting was not going to help much today.

Carlisle sat in his usual seat at the eastern head of the room. Esme was beside him—they held hands on top of the table.

Esme’s eyes were on me, their golden depths full of concern.

_Stay._ It was her only thought.

I wished I could smile at the woman who was truly a mother to me, but I had no reassurances for her now.

I sat on Carlisle’s other side. Esme reached around him to put her free hand on my shoulder. She had no idea of what was about to start; she was just worrying about me.

Carlisle had a better sense of what was coming. His lips were pressed tightly together and his forehead was creased. The expression looked too old for his young face.

As everyone else sat, I could see the lines being drawn.

Royal sat directly across from Carlisle, on the other end of the long table. He glared at me, never looking away.

Emmett sat beside him, his face and thoughts both wry.

Jasper hesitated, and then went to stand against the wall behind Royal. He was decided, regardless of the outcome of this discussion. My teeth locked together.

Alice was the last to come in, and her eyes were focused on something far away— the future, still too indistinct for her to make use of it. Without seeming to think about it, she sat next to Esme. She rubbed her forehead as if she had a headache. Jasper twitched uneasily and considered joining her, but he kept his place.

I took a deep breath. I had started this—I should speak first.

“I’m sorry,” I said, looking first at Roy, then Jasper and then Emmett. “I didn’t mean to put any of you at risk. It was thoughtless, and I take full responsibility for my hasty action.”

Royal glared at me balefully. “What do you mean, ‘take full responsibility’? Are you going to fix it?”

“Not the way you mean,” I said, working to keep my voice even and quiet. “I’m willing to leave now, if that makes things better.” _If I believe that the boy will be safe, if I believe that none of you will touch him_ , I amended in my head.

“No,” Esme murmured. “No, Edward.”

I patted her hand. “It’s just a few years.”

“Esme’s right, though,” Emmett said. “You can’t go anywhere now. That would be the _opposite_ of helpful. We have to know what people are thinking, now more than ever.”

“Alice will catch anything major,” I disagreed.

Carlisle shook his head. “I think Emmett is right, Edward. The boy will be more likely to talk if you disappear. It’s all of us leave, or none of us.”

“He won’t say anything,” I insisted quickly. Roy was building up to the explosion, and I wanted this fact out there first.

“You don’t know his mind,” Carlisle reminded me.

“I know this much. Alice, back me up.”

Alice stared up at me wearily. “I can’t see what will happen if we just ignore this.” She glanced at Roy and Jasper.

No, she couldn’t see that future—not when Royal and Jasper were so decided against ignoring the incident.

Royal’s palm smacked down on the table with a loud bang. “We can’t allow the human a chance to say anything. Carlisle, you _must_ see that. Even if we decided to all disappear, it’s not safe to leave stories behind us. We live so differently from the rest of our kind—you know there are those who would love an excuse to point fingers. We have to be more careful than anyone else!”

“We’ve left rumors behind us before,” I reminded him.

“Just rumors and suspicions, Edward. Not eyewitnesses and evidence!”

“Evidence!” I scoffed.

But Jasper was nodding, his eyes hard.

“Roy—” Carlisle began.

“Let me finish, Carlisle. It doesn’t have to be any big production. The boy hit his head today. So maybe that injury turns out to be more serious that it looked.” Royal shrugged. “Every mortal goes to sleep with the chance of never waking up. The others would expect us to clean up after ourselves. Technically, that would make it Edward’s job, but this is obviously beyond him. You know I’m capable of control. I would leave no evidence behind me.”

“Yes, Royal, we all know how proficient an assassin you are,” I snarled.

He hissed at me, furious.

“Edward, please,” Carlisle said. Then he turned to Royal. “Royal, I looked the other way in Rochester because I felt that you were owed your justice. The men you killed had wronged you monstrously. This is not the same situation. The Swan boy is an innocent.”

“It’s not personal, Carlisle,” Royal said through his teeth. “It’s to protect us all.”

There was a brief moment of silence while Carlisle thought through his answer. When he nodded, Royal’s eyes lit up. He should have known better. Even if I hadn’t been able to read his thoughts, I could have anticipated his next words. Carlisle never compromised.

“I know you mean well, Royal, but...I’d like very much for our family to be _worth_ protecting. The occasional...accident or lapse in control is a regrettable part of who we are.” It was very like him to include himself in the plural, though he had never had such a lapse himself. “To murder a blameless human in cold blood is another thing entirely. I believe the risk he presents, whether he speaks his suspicions or not, is nothing to the greater risk. If we make exceptions to protect ourselves, we risk something much more important. We risk losing the essence of who we are.”

I controlled my expression very carefully. It wouldn’t do at all to grin. Or to applaud, as I wished I could.

Royal scowled. “It’s just being responsible.”

“It’s being callous,” Carlisle corrected gently. “Every life is precious.”

Royal sighed heavily and his lower lip pouted out. Emmett squeezed his shoulder.

“It’ll be fine, Roy,” he encouraged in a low voice.

“The question,” Carlisle continued, “is whether we should move on?”

“No,” Royal moaned. “We just got settled. I don’t want to start on my sophomore year in high school again!”

“You could keep your present age, of course,” Carlisle said.

“And have to move again that much sooner?” he countered.

Carlisle shrugged.

“I _like_ it here! There’s so little sun, we get to be almost _normal_.”

“Well, we certainly don’t have to decide now. We can wait and see if it becomes necessary. Edward seems certain of the Swan boy’s silence.”

Royal snorted.

But I was no longer worried about Roy. I could see that he would go along with Carlisle’s decision, not matter how infuriated he was with me. Their conversation had moved on to unimportant details.

Jasper remained unmoved.

I understood why. Before he and Alice had met, he’d lived in a combat zone, a relentless theater of war. He knew the consequences of flouting the rules—he’d seen the grisly aftermath with his own eyes.

It said much that he had not tried to calm Royal down with his extra faculties, nor did he now try to rile him up. He was holding himself aloof from this discussion— above it.

“Jasper,” I said.

He met my gaze, his face expressionless.

“He won’t pay for my mistake. I won’t allow that.”

“He benefits from it, then? He should have died today, Edward. I would only set that right.”

I repeated myself, emphasizing each word. “I will not allow it.”

His eyebrows shot up. He wasn’t expecting this—he hadn’t imagined that I would act to stop him.

He shook his head once. “I won’t let Alice live in danger, even a slight danger. You don’t feel about anyone the way I feel about her, Edward, and you haven’t lived through what I’ve lived through, whether you’ve seen my memories or not. You don’t understand.”

“I’m not disputing that, Jasper. But I’m telling you now, I won’t allow you to hurt Beauregard Swan.”

We stared at each other—not glaring, but measuring the opposition. I felt him sample the mood around me, testing my determination.

“Jazz,” Alice said, interrupting us.

He held my gaze for a moment more, and then looked at her. “Don’t bother telling me you can protect yourself, Alice. I already know that. I’ve still got to—”

“That’s not what I’m going say,” Alice interrupted. “I was going to ask you for a favor.”

I saw what was on her mind, and my mouth fell open with an audible gasp. I stared at her, shocked, only vaguely aware that everyone besides Alice and Jasper was now eyeing me warily.

“I know you love me. Thanks. But I would really appreciate it if you didn’t try to kill Beau. First of all, Edward’s serious and I don’t want you two fighting. Secondly, Beau is my friend. At least, he’s _going_ to be.”

It was clear as glass in her head: Alice, smiling, with her icy white arm around the boy’s warm, slim waist. And Beau was smiling, too, his arm around Alice’s shoulder’s.

The vision was rock solid; only the timing of it was unsure.

“But...Alice...” Jasper gasped. I couldn’t manage to turn my head to see his expression. I couldn’t tear myself away from the image in Alice’s head in order to hear his.

“I’m going to love him someday, Jazz. I’ll be very put out with you if you don’t let him be.”

I was still locked into Alice’s thoughts. I saw the future shimmer as Jasper’s resolve floundered in the face of her unexpected request.

“Ah,” she sighed—his indecision had cleared a new future. “See? Beau’s not going to say anything. There’s nothing to worry about.”

The way she said the boy’s name...like they were already close confidants...

“Alice,” I choked. “What...does this...?”

“I told you there was a change coming. I don’t know, Edward.” But she locked her jaw, and I could see that there was more. She was trying not to think about it; she was focusing very hard on Jasper suddenly, though he was too stunned to have progressed much in his decision making.

She did this sometimes when she was trying to keep something from me. “What, Alice? What are you hiding?”

I heard Emmett grumble. He always got frustrated when Alice and I had these kinds of conversations.

She shook her head, trying to not let me in.

“Is it about the boy?” I demanded. “Is it about Beau?”

She had her teeth gritted in concentration, but when I spoke Beau’s name, she slipped. Her slip only lasted the tiniest portion of a second, but that was long enough.

“NO!” I shouted. I heard my chair hit the floor, and only then realized I was on my feet.

“Edward!” Carlisle was on his feet, too, his arm on my shoulder. I was barely aware of him.

“It’s solidifying,” Alice whispered. “Every minute you’re more decided. There’re really only two ways left for him. It’s one or the other, Edward.”

I could see what she saw...but I could not accept it.

“No,” I said again; there was no volume to my denial. My legs felt hollow, and I had to brace myself against the table.

“Will somebody _please_ let the rest of us in on the mystery?” Emmett complained.

“I have to leave,” I whispered to Alice, ignoring him.

“Edward, we’ve already been over that,” Emmett said loudly. “That’s the best way to start the kid talking. Besides, if you take off, we won’t know for sure if he’s talking or not. You have to stay and deal with this.”

“I don’t see you going anywhere, Edward,” Alice told me. “I don’t know if you _can_ leave anymore.” _Think about it,_ she added silently. _Think about leaving._

I saw what she meant. Yes, the idea of never seeing Beau again was...painful. But it was also necessary. I couldn’t sanction either future I’d apparently condemned him to.

_I’m not entirely sure of Jasper, Edward,_ Alice went on. _If you leave, if he thinks Beau is a danger to us..._

“I don’t hear that,” I contradicted her, still only halfway aware of our audience.

Jasper was wavering. He would not do something that would hurt Alice.

_Not right this moment. Will you risk his life, leave his undefended?_

“Why are you doing this to me?” I groaned. My head fell into my hands.

I was not Beau’s protector. I could not be that. Wasn’t Alice’s divided future enough proof of that?

_I love him, too. Or I will. It’s not the same, but I want him around for that._

“Love him _too?_ ” I whispered, incredulous.

She sighed. _You are_ so _blind, Edward. Can’t you see where you’re headed? Can’t you see where you already are? It’s more inevitable than the sun rising in the east. See what I see..._

I shook my head, horrified. “No.” I tried to shut out the visions she revealed to me. “I don’t have to follow that course. I’ll leave. I _will_ change the future.”

“You can try,” she said, her voice skeptical.

“Oh, _come on_!” Emmett bellowed.

“Pay attention,” Roy hissed at him. “Alice sees him falling for a _human!_ How classically Edward!” He made a gagging sound. I scarcely heard him.

“What?” Emmett said, startled. Then his booming laugh echoed through the room. “Is that what’s been going on?” He laughed again. “Tough break, Edward.”

I felt his hand on my shoulder, and I shook it off absently. I couldn’t pay attention to him.

“ _Fall_ for a human?” Esme repeated in a stunned voice. “For the boy he saved today? Fall in _love_ with him?”

“What do you see, Alice? Exactly,” Jasper demanded.

She turned toward him; I continued to stare numbly at the side of her face. “It all depends on whether he is strong enough or not. Either he’ll kill Beau himself” —she turned to meet my gaze again, glaring— “which would _really_ irritate me, Edward, not to mention what it would do to _you_ —” she faced Jasper again, “or Beau will be one of us someday.”

Someone gasped; I didn’t look to see who.

“That’s not going to happen!” I was shouting again. “Either one!”

Alice didn’t seem to hear me. “It all depends,” she repeated. “He may be just strong enough not to kill him—but it will be close. It will take an amazing amount of control,” she mused. “More even than Carlisle has. He may be _just_ strong enough... The only thing he’s not strong enough to do is stay away from him. That’s a lost cause.”

I couldn’t find my voice. No one else seemed to be able to either. The room was still.

I stared at Alice, and everyone else stared at me. I could see my own horrified expression from five different viewpoints.

After a long moment, Carlisle sighed.

“Well, this...complicates things.”

“I’ll say,” Emmett agreed. His voice was still close to laughter. Trust Emmett to find the joke in the destruction of my life.

“I suppose the plans remain the same, though,” Carlisle said thoughtfully. “We’ll stay, and watch. Obviously, no one will...hurt the boy.”

I stiffened.

“No,” Jasper said quietly. “I can agree to that. If Alice sees only two ways—”

“No!” My voice was not a shout or a growl or a cry of despair, but some combination of the three. “No!”

I had to leave, to be away from the noise of their thoughts—Royal’s self- righteous disgust, Emmett’s humor, Carlisle’s never ending patience...

Worse: Alice’s confidence. Jasper’s confidence in that confidence. Worst of all: Esme’s... _joy_.

I stalked out of the room. Esme touched my arm as I passed, but I didn’t acknowledge the gesture.

I was running before I was out of the house. I cleared the river in one bound, and raced into the forest. The rain was back again, falling so heavily that I was drenched in a few moments. I liked the thick sheet of water—it made a wall between me and the rest of the world. It closed me in, let me be alone.

I ran due east, over and through the mountains without breaking my straight course, until I could see the lights of Seattle on the other side of the sound. I stopped before I touched the borders of human civilization.

Shut in by the rain, all alone, I finally made myself look at what I had done—at the way I had mutilated the future.

First, the vision of Alice and the boy with their arms around each other—the trust and friendship was so obvious it shouted from the image. Beau’s wide silvery eyes were not bewildered in this vision, but still full of secrets—in this moment, they seemed to be happy secrets. He did not flinch away from Alice’s cold arm.

What did it mean? How much did he know? In that still-life moment from the future, what did he think of _me_?

Then the other image, so much the same, yet now colored by horror. Alice and Beau, their arms still wrapped around each other in trusting friendship. But now there was no difference between those arms—both were white, smooth as marble, hard as steel. Beau’s wide eyes were no longer gray. The irises were a shocking, vivid crimson. The secrets in them were unfathomable—acceptance or desolation? It was impossible to tell. His face was cold and immortal.

I shuddered. I could not suppress the questions, similar, but different: What did it mean—how had this come about? And what did he think of me now?

I could answer that last one. If I forced him into this empty half-life through my weakness and selfishness, surely he would hate me.

But there was one more horrifying image—worse than any image I’d ever held inside my head.

My own eyes, deep crimson with human blood, the eyes of the monster. Beau’s broken body in my arms, ashy white, drained, lifeless. It was so concrete, so clear.

I couldn’t stand to see this. Could not bear it. I tried to banish it from my mind, tried to see something else, anything else. Tried to see again the expression on his living face that had obstructed my view for the last chapter of my existence. All to no avail.

Alice’s bleak vision filled my head, and I writhed internally with the agony it caused. Meanwhile, the monster in me was overflowing with glee, jubilant at the likelihood of his success. It sickened me.

This could not be allowed. There had to be a way to circumvent the future. I would not let Alice’s visions direct me. I could choose a different path. There was always a choice.

There had to be.


	5. Invitations

High school. Purgatory no longer, it was no purely hell. Torment and fire… yes, I had both.

I was doing everything correctly now. Every ‘i’ dotted, ever ‘t’ crossed. No one could complain that I was shirking my responsibilities.

To please Esme and protect the others, I stayed in Forks. I returned to my old schedule. I hunted no more than the rest of them. Everyday, I attended high school and played human. Everyday, I listened carefully for anything new about the Cullens—there never was anything new. Beau Swan did not speak one word of his suspicions. He just repeated the same story again and again—I’d been standing with him and then pulled him out of the way—till his eager listeners got bored and stopped looking for more details. There was no danger. My hasty action had hurt no one.

No one but myself.

I was determined to change the future. Not the easiest task to set for oneself, but there was no other choice that I could live with.

Alice said that I would not be strong enough to stay away from the boy. I would prove her wrong.

I’d thought the first day would be the hardest. By the end of it, I’d been _sure_ that was the case. I’d been wrong, though.

It had rankled, knowing that I would hurt the boy. I’d comforted myself with the fact that his pain would be nothing more than a pinprick—just a tiny sting of rejection—compared to mine. Beau was human, and he knew that I was something else, something wrong, something frightening. He would probably be more relieved than wounded when I turned my face away from him and pretended that he didn’t exist.

“Hello, Edward,” he’d greeted me, that first day back in biology. His voice had been pleasant, friendly, one hundred and eighty degrees from the last time I’d spoken with him.

Why? What did the change mean? Had he forgotten? Decided he had imagined the whole episode? Could he possibly have forgiven me for not following through on my promise?

The questions had burned like the thirst that attacked me every time I breathed.

Just one moment to look in his eyes. Just to see if I could read the answers there…

No. I could not allow myself even that. Not if I was going to change the future.

I’d moved my chin an inch in his direction without looking away form the front of the room. I’d nodded once, and then turned my face straight forward.

He did not speak to me again.

That afternoon, as soon as school was finished, my role played, I ran to Seattle as I had the day before. It seemed that I could handle the aching just slightly better when I was flying over the ground, turning everything around me into a green blur.

This run became my daily habit.

Did I love him? I did not think so. Not yet. Alice’s glimpses of that future had stuck with me, though, and I could see how easy it would be to fall into loving Beau. It would be exactly like falling: effortless. Not letting myself love him was the opposite of falling—it was pulling myself up a cliff-face, hand over hand, the task as grueling as if I had no more than mortal strength.

More than a month passed, and every day it got harder. That made no sense to me—I kept waiting to get over it, to have it get easier. This must be what Alice had meant when she’d predicted that I would not be able to stay away from Beau. She had seen the escalation of pain. But I could handle pain.

I would not destroy Beau’s future. If I was destined to love him, then wasn’t avoiding him the very least I could do?

Avoiding him was about the limit of what I could bear, though. I could pretend to ignore him, and never look his way. I could pretend that he was of no interest to me. But that was the extent, just pretense and not reality.

I still hung on every breath he took, every word he said.

I lumped my torments into four categories.

The first two were familiar. His scent and his silence. Or, rather—to take the responsibility on myself where it belonged—my thirst and my curiosity.

The thirst was the most primal of my torments. It was my habit now to simply not breathe at all in Biology. Of course, there were always the exceptions—when I had to answer a question or something of the sort, and I would need my breath to speak. Each time I tasted the air around the boy, it was the same as the first day—fire and need and brutal violence desperate to break free. It was hard to cling even slightly to reason or restraint in those moments. And, just like that first day, the monster in me would roar, so close to the surface…

The curiosity was the most constant of my torments. The question was never out of my mind: _What is he thinking now?_ When I heard him quietly sigh. When he absently ran his fingers through his hair. When he threw his books down with more force than usual. When he rushed to class late. When he tapped his foot impatiently against the floor. Each movement caught in my peripheral vision was a maddening mystery.

When he spoke to the other human students, I analyzed his every word and tone. Was he speaking his thoughts, or what he thought he should say? It often sounded to me like he was trying to say what his audience expected, and this reminded me of my family and our daily life of illusion—we were better at it than he was. Unless I was wrong about that, just imagining things. Why would he have to play a role? He was one of them—a human teenager.

Mike Newton was the most surprising of my torments. Who would have ever dreamed that such a generic, boring mortal could be so infuriating? To be fair, I should have felt some gratitude to the annoying boy; more than the others, he kept Beau talking. I learned so much about him through these conversations—I was still compiling my list—but, contrarily, Mike’s assistance with this project only aggravated me more. I didn’t want Mike to be the one that unlocked Beau Swan’s secrets. I wanted to do that.

It helped that the Newton boy never noticed Beau’s small revelations, his little slips. He knew nothing about him. He’d created a Beau in his head that didn’t exist—a boy just as generic as he was. He hadn’t observed the unselfishness and bravery that set Beau apart from other humans, he didn’t hear the abnormal maturity of Beau’s spoken thoughts. He didn’t perceive that when Beau spoke of his mother, he sounded like the parent speaking of a child rather than the other way around—loving, indulgent, slightly amused, and fiercely protective. He didn’t hear the patience in Beau’s voice when he feigned interest in his rambling stories, and didn’t guess at the kindness behind that patience.

Though his conversations with Mike, I was able to add the most important quality to my list, the most revealing of them all, as simple as it was rare. Beau was _good_. All the other things added up to that whole—kind and self-effacing and unselfish and loving and brave—he was good through and through.

These helpful discoveries did not warm me to the Newton boy, however. The possessive way he viewed Beau—as if he were an acquisition to be made—provoked me almost as much as his crude fantasies about him. He was becoming more confident of Beau, too, as the time passed, for Beau seemed to prefer him over those Mike considered his rivals—Tyler Crowley, Erica Yorkie, and even, sporadically, myself. He would routinely sit on Beau’s side of our table before class began, chatting at him, encouraged by his smiles. Just polite smiles, I told myself. All the same, I frequently amused myself by imagining backhanding him across the room and into the far wall… it probably wouldn’t injure him fatally…

Mike didn’t often think of me as a rival. After the accident, he’d worried that Beau and I would bond from the shared experience, but obviously the opposite had resulted. Back then, he had still been bothered that I’d singled Beau out over his peers for attention. But now I ignored him just as thoroughly as the others, and he grew complacent.

What was Beau thinking now? Did he welcome Mike’s attention?

And, finally, the last of my torments, the most painful: Beau’s indifference. As I ignored him, he ignored me. He never tried to speak to me again. For all I knew, he never thought about me at all.

This might have driven me mad—or even broken my resolution to change the future—except that he sometimes stared at me like he had before. I didn’t see it for myself, as I could not allow myself to look at him, but Alice always warned us when he was about to stare; the others were still wary of the boy’s problematic knowledge.

It eased some of the pain that he gazed at me from across a distance, every now and then. Of course, he could just be wondering what kind of a freak I was.

“Beau is going to stare at Edward in a minute. Look normal,” Alice said one Tuesday in March, and the others were careful to fidget and shift their weight like humans; absolute stillness was a marker of our kind.

I paid attention to how often he looked my direction. It pleased me, though it should not, that the frequency did not decline as the time passed. I didn’t know what it meant, but it made me feel better.

Alice sighed. _I wish…_

“Stay out of it, Alice,” I said under my breath. “It’s not going to happen.”

She pouted. Alice was anxious to form her envisioned friendship with Beau. In a strange way, she missed the boy she didn’t know.

_I’ll admit, you’re better than I thought. You’ve got the future all snarled up and senseless again. I hope you’re happy._

“It makes plenty of sense to me.”

She snorted delicately.

I tried to shut her out, too impatient for conversation. I wasn’t in a very good mood—tenser than I let any of them see. Only Jasper was aware of how tightly wound I was, feeling the stress emanate out of me with his unique ability to both sense and influence the moods of others. He didn’t understand the reasons behind the moods, though, and—since I was constantly in a foul mood these days—he disregarded it.

Today would be a hard one. Harder than the day before, as was the pattern.

Mike Newton, the odious boy whom I could not allow myself to rival, was going to ask Beau on a date.

A girl’s choice dance was on the near horizon, and he’d gotten in his head to convince Beau to go with him. He currently found himself in an uncomfortable bind—I enjoyed his discomfort more than I should—because Jessica Stanley had just asked him to the dance. He didn’t want to say “yes,” thereby missing the chance to attend with Beau, but he didn’t want to say “no” at the same time. I suppose I could pity the boy in some way; he was still coming to terms with himself and that confusion—that lack of true self-awareness—made his life more difficult than it needed to be. So, in his confusion he had decided to spurn Jessica and convince Beau they should go together—‘stag,’ as it were.

Meanwhile, Jessica, hurt by his hesitation and not understanding the reason behind it, had considered asking Beau herself after all, but they had apparently talked about it and decided that they wouldn’t go together, after all.

To think it had come to this! I was utterly fixated on the petty high school dramas that I’d once held so in contempt.

Mike was working up his nerve as he walked Beau to biology. I listened to his struggles as I waited for them to arrive. The Newton boy was weak. He had waited for this dance purposely, afraid to make his infatuation known before Beau had shown a marked preference for him. He didn’t want to make himself vulnerable to rejection, or exposing his preferences outright, preferring  that Beau make that leap first.

Coward.

He sat down on our table again, comfortable with long familiarity, and I imagined the sound it would make if his body hit the opposite wall with enough force to break most of his bones.

“So,” he said to Beau, his eyes on the floor. “Jessica asked me to the spring dance.”

“That’s great,” Beau answered immediately and with enthusiasm. It was hard not to smile as his tone sunk in to Mike’s awareness. He’d been hoping for dismay. “You’ll have a lot of fun with Jessica.”

He scrambled for the right response. “Well…” he hesitated, and almost chickened out. Then he rallied. “I told her I had to think about it.”

“Why would you do that?” Beau demanded. His tone was one of disapproval, but there was the faintest hint of relief there as well.

What did _that_ mean? An unexpected, intense fury made my hands clench into fists.

Mike did not hear the relief. His face was red with blood—fierce as I suddenly felt, this seemed like an invitation—and he looked at the floor again as he spoke.

“I was wondering if… well, I was thinking maybe we could… you know… You and me could… go.” His face flushed a deeper red. “Like, stag. Go stag. Together.”

Beau hesitated.

In that moment of his hesitation, I saw the future more clearly than Alice ever had.

The boy might say yes to Mike’s question now, and he might not, but either way, someday soon, he would say yes to someone. He was handsome and intriguing, and his fellow humans were not oblivious to this fact. Whether he would settle for someone in this lackluster crowd, or wait until he was free from Forks, the day would come that he _would_ say yes.

I saw his life as I had before—college, career… love, marriage. I saw him in a fine tuxedo again, a rose pinned to his lapel, his face flushed with happiness as he moved down the aisle.

The pain was more than anything I’d felt before. A human would have to be on the point of death to feel this pain—a human would not live through it.

And not just pain, but outright _rage_.

The fury ached for some kind of physical outlet. Though this insignificant, undeserving boy might not be the one that Beau would say yes to, I yearned to crush his skull in my hand, to let him stand as a representative for whoever it would be.

I didn’t understand this emotion—it was such a tangle of pain and rage and desire and despair. I had never felt it before; I couldn’t put a name to it.

“Mike, I think you should tell her yes,” Beau said in a gentle voice.

Mike’s hopes plummeted. I would have enjoyed that under other circumstances, but I was lost in the aftershock of the pain—and the remorse for what the pain and rage had done to me.

Alice was right. I was _not_ strong enough.

Right now, Alice would be watching the future spin and twist, become mangled again. Would this please her?

“Did someone already ask you to go?” Mike asked sullenly. He glanced at me, suspicious for the first time in many weeks. I realized I had betrayed my interest; my head was inclined in Beau’s direction.

The wild envy in his thoughts—envy for whoever Beau preferred to him—suddenly put a name to my unnamed emotion.

I was jealous.

“No,” Beau said with a trace of humor in his voice. “I’m not going to the dance at all.”

Through all the remorse and anger, I felt relief at his words. Suddenly, I was considering _my_ rivals.

“Why not?” Mike asked, his tone almost rude. It offended me that he used this tone with Beau. I bit back a growl.

“I’m going to Seattle that Saturday,” he answered.

The curiosity was not as vicious as it would have been before—now that I was fully intending to find out the answers to everything. I would know the wheres and whys of this new revelation soon enough.

Mike’s tone turned unpleasantly wheedling. “Can’t you go some other weekend?”

“Sorry, no.” Beau was brusquer now. “So you shouldn’t make Jess wait any longer—it’s rude.”

His concern for Jessica’s feelings fanned the flames of my jealousy. This Seattle trip was clearly an excuse to say no—did he refuse purely out of loyalty to his friend? He was more than selfless enough for that. Did he actually wish he could say yes? Or were both guesses wrong? Was he interested in someone else?

“Yeah, you’re right,” Mike mumbled, so demoralized that I almost felt pity for him. Almost.

He dropped his eyes from the boy, cutting my view of his face in his thoughts.

I wasn’t going to tolerate that.

I turned to read Beau’s face myself, for the first time in more than a month. It was a sharp relief to allow myself this, like a gasp of air to long-submerged human lungs.

His eyes were closed, and his hands pressed against the sides of his face. His shoulders curved inward defensively. He shook his head ever so slightly, as if he were trying to push some thought from his mind.

Frustrating. Fascinating.

Mrs. Banner’s voice pulled him from his reverie, and his eyes slowly opened. He looked at me immediately, perhaps sensing my gaze. He stared up into my eyes with the same bewildered expression that had haunted me for so long.

I didn’t feel the remorse or the guilt or the rage in that second. I knew they would come again, and come soon, but for this one moment I rode a strange, jittery high. As if I had triumphed, rather than lost.

He didn’t look away, though I stared with inappropriate intensity, trying vainly to read his thoughts through is silvery gray eyes. They were full of questions, rather than answers.

I could see the reflection of my own eyes, and I saw that they were black with thirst. It had been nearly two weeks since my last hunting trip; this was not the safest day for my will to crumble. But the blackness did not seem to frighten him. He still did not look away, and a soft, devastatingly appealing pink began to color his skin.

_What was he thinking now?_

I almost asked the question aloud, but at that moment Mrs. Banner called my name. I picked the correct answer out of her head while I glanced briefly in her direction.

I sucked in a quick breath. “The Krebs Cycle.”

Thirst scorched down my throat—tightening my muscles and filling my mouth with venom—and I closed my eyes, trying to concentrate through the desire for his blood that raged inside me.

The monster was stronger than before. The monster was rejoicing. He embraced this dual future that gave him an even, fifty-fifty chance at what he craved so viciously. The third, shaky future I’d tried to construct through willpower alone had crumbled—destroyed by common jealousy, of all things—and he was so much closer to his goal.

The remorse and the guilt burned with the thirst, and, if I’d had the ability to produce tears, they would have filled my eyes now.

What had I done?

Knowing the battle was already lost, there seemed to be no reason to resist what I wanted; I turned to stare at the boy again.

He was staring down at his book, but I could see the deep crimson stain of his cheek.

The monster liked that.

He did not meet my gaze again, but he ran his fingers through his hair, catching a dark strand and twisting it nervously between his fingers. His delicate fingers, his fragile wrist—they were so breakable, looking for all the world like just my breath could snap them.

No, no, no. I could not do this. He was too breakable, too good, too precious to deserve this fate. I couldn’t allow my life to collide with his, to destroy it.

But I couldn’t stay away from him either. Alice was right about that.

The monster inside me hissed with frustration as I wavered, leaning first one way, then the other.

My brief hour with him passed all too quickly, as I vacillated between the rock and the hard place. The bell rang, and he started collecting his things without looking at me. This disappointed me, but I could hardly expect otherwise. The way I had treated him since the accident was inexcusable.

“Beau?” I said, unable to stop myself. My willpower already lay in shreds.

He hesitated before looking at me; when he turned, his expression was guarded, distrustful.

I reminded myself that he had every right to distrust me. That he should.

He waited for me to continue, but I just stared at him, reading his face. I pulled in shallow mouthfuls of air at regular intervals, fighting my thirst

“Yes?” he finally said.

I felt silenced by his eyes.

“So are you or are you not speaking to me again?” There was an edge of petulance to his tone that was charming. The way it radiated through his beautiful gray eyes was fascinating. It made me want to smile.

I wasn’t sure how to answer his question. _Was_ I speaking to him again, in the sense that he meant?

No. Not if I could help it. I would try to help it.

“No, not really,” I told him.

“Okay.”

He closed his eyes, which frustrated me. It cut off my best avenue of access to his feelings. He took a long, slow breath without opening his eyes. His jaw was locked.

Eyes still closed, he spoke. Surely this was not a normal human way to converse. Why did he do it?

“Then what do you want, Edward?”

The sound of my name on his lips did strange things to my body. If I’d had a heartbeat, it would have quickened.

But how to answer him?

With the truth, I decided. I would be as truthful as I could with him from now on. I didn’t want to deserve his distrust, even if earning his trust was impossible.

“I’m sorry,” I told him. That was truer than he would ever know. Unfortunately, I could only safely apologize for the trivial. “I’m being very rude, I know. But it’s better this way, really.”

It would be better for him if I could keep it up, continue to be rude. Could I?

His eyes opened, their expression still wary.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

I tried to get as much of a warning through to him as was allowed. “It’s better if we’re not friends.” Surely, he could sense that much. He was intelligent. “Trust me.”

His eyes tightened, and I remembered that I had said those words to him before—just before breaking a promise. I winced when his teeth clenched together—he clearly remembered, too.

“What are you thinking?” I had never meant to speak the question, yet somehow it had slipped out. I could feel the frustration on my face, both with myself and with my lack of understanding.

“I guess… It’s just too bad you didn’t figure that out earlier,” he sighed. “You could have saved yourself all this regret.”

I stared at him in shock. What did he know of my regrets?

“Regret? Regret for what?” I demanded.

“For not letting Tyler’s van crush me!” he said simply, like it was obvious.

I froze, stunned.

How could he be thinking _that_? Saving his life was the one acceptable thing I’d done since I met him. The one thing I was not ashamed of. The one and only thing that made me glad I existed at all. I’d been fighting to keep him alive since the first moment I’d caught his scent. How could he think this of me? How could he question my one good deed in all this mess?

“You think I regret saving your life?”

“I can tell that you do,” he said wearily, “I just don’t know why.”

His estimation of my intentions left me seething. “You don’t know anything.”

How confusing and incomprehensible the workings of his mind were! He must not think the same way as other humans at all. That must be the explanation behind his mental silence. He was entirely other.

He turned his face away, setting his jaw. He was obviously upset. He gathered his books together in a pile, pulled them up into his arms, stood and walked toward the door without meeting my stare.

Even irritated as I was, it was impossible not to feel waves of guilt for causing him to feel this way.

He walked quickly, without looking where he was going, and his foot caught on the lip of the doorway. He stumbled, and his things all crashed to the ground. Instead of bending to get them, he stood rigidly straight, not even looking down, as if he were not sure the books were worth retrieving. Then he sighed deeply. It was an exquisitely sad sound.

 I felt truly monstrous then.

I had to fix this. I had to make this right. No one was here to watch me; I flitted to his side, and had his book put in order before he looked down.

He bent halfway, saw me, and then froze. I handed his books back to him, making sure that my icy skin never touched his.

“Thank you,” he said in a quiet voice.

I understood his mood now, he was exhausted by me. I felt wretched.

“You’re welcome,” was all I could say, though I desperately longed to explain everything to him, to chase away his feelings of sadness. But I could not do that.

He stood swiftly upright and hurried away to his next class.

I watched until I could no longer see him.

Spanish passed in a blur. Mrs. Goff never questioned my abstraction—she knew my Spanish was superior to hers, and she gave me a great deal of latitude—leaving me free to think.

So, I couldn’t ignore the boy. That much was obvious. But did it mean I had no choice but to destroy him? That could _not_ be the only available future. There had to be some other choice, some delicate balance. I tried of think of a way…

I didn’t pay much attention to Emmett until the hour was nearly up. He was curious—Emmett was not overly intuitive about the shades in other’s moods, but he could see the obvious change in me. He wondered what had happened to remove the unrelenting glower from my face. He struggled to define the change, and finally decided that I looked _hopeful._

Hopeful? Is that what it looked like from the outside?

I pondered the idea of hope as we walked to the Volvo, wondering what exactly I should be hoping _for_.

But I didn’t have long to ponder. Sensitive as I always was to thoughts about the boy, the sound of Beau’s name in the heads of… of my rivals, I suppose I had to admit, caught my attention. Erica and Tyler, having heard—with much satisfaction—of Mike’s failure, were preparing to make their moves.

Erica was already in place, positioned against Beau’s truck where he could not avoid her. Tyler’s class was being held late to receive an assignment, and he was in a desperate hurry to catch Beau before he escaped.

This I had to see.

“Wait for the others here, all right?” I murmured to Emmett.

He eyed me suspicious, but then shrugged and nodded.

 _Kid’s lost his mind_ , he thought, amused by my odd request.

I saw Beau on his way out of the gym, and I waited where he would not see me for him to pass. As he got closer to Erica’s ambush, I strode forward, setting my pace so that I could walk by at the right moment.

I watched his body stiffen when he caught of the girl waiting for him. He froze for a moment, then relaxed and moved forward.

“Hi, Erica,” I heard him call in a friendly voice.

I was abruptly and unexpectedly anxious. What if I was utterly mistaken in regard to Beau’s preferences? No, that wasn’t the case. I was sure.

Erica swallowed loudly, ducking her head slightly. “Hi, Beau.”

He seemed unconscious of her nervousness.

“What’s up?” he asked, unlocking his truck without looking at her frightened expression.

“Uh, I was just wondering… if you would go to the spring dance with me?” Her voice broke.

He finally looked up. Was he taken aback, or pleased? Erica couldn’t meet his gaze, so I couldn’t see his face in her mind.

“I’m… I’m not going to the dance, Erica,” he said, sounding disarmed.

“Oh, okay,” she said, despondently.

This poor girl did not irritate me as much as Mike Newton did, not by half. I hadn’t paid much attention to Erica Yorkie before, but as I listened now to the jumbled thoughts in her mind I realized her desire to ask Beau to the dance had nothing to do with an actual attraction but rather a desperate attempt to hide something about herself from the rest of this small-minded town. Poor girl.

“Thank you for asking me, but I’m going to be in Seattle that day.” Beau replied, his voice gentle and soothing.

She’d already heard this; still, it was a disappointment—an embarrassment.

“Oh,” she mumbled, barely daring to raise her eyes to the level of his nose. “Maybe next time.”

“Sure,” he agreed. Then he bit down on his lip, as if he regretted leaving her a loophole. I liked that.

Erica slumped forward, throwing a half-hearted wave and a meek, “See ya,” back at him as she walked away, headed in the wrong direction from her car, her only thought escape.

I passed him in that moment, and heard his sigh of distress. I laughed.

He whirled at the sound, but I stared straight ahead, trying to keep my lips from twitching in amusement.

Tyler was behind me, almost running in his hurry to catch him before he could drive away. Tyler was bolder and more confident than the other two; he’d only waited to approach Beau this long because he’d respected Mike’s prior claim.

I wanted Tyler to succeed in catching him for two reasons. If—as I was beginning to suspect—all this attention was annoying Beau, I wanted to watch his reaction. But, if it was not—if Tyler’s invitation was the one he’d been hoping for—then I wanted to know that, too.

I measured Tyler Crowley as a rival, knowing it was wrong to do so. Though he had shown no attraction to other males before, he seemed intent on asking Beau to the dance. On the whole, he seemed tediously average and unremarkable to me, but what did I know of Beau’s preferences? Maybe he liked average boys…

I winced at that thought. I could never be an average boy. How foolish it was to set myself up as a rival for his affections. How could he ever care for someone who was, by any estimation, a monster?

He was too good for a monster.

I ought to have let him escape, but my inexcusable curiosity kept me from doing what was right. Again. But what if Tyler missed his chance now, only to contact Beau later when I would have no way of knowing the outcome? I pulled my Volvo out into the narrow lane, blocking his exit.

Emmett and the others were on their way, but he’d described my strange behavior to them, and they were walking slowly, watching me, trying to decipher what I was doing.

I watched the boy in my rearview mirror. He glowered toward the back of my car without meeting my gaze, looking as if he wished he were driving a tank rather than a rusted Chevy.

Tyler hurried to his car and got in line behind him, grateful for my inexplicable behavior. He waved at him, trying to catch his attention, but he didn’t notice. Tyler waited a moment, and then left his car, sauntering up to Beau’s passenger side window. He tapped on the glass.

Beau jumped, and then stared at him in confusion. After a second, he rolled the window down manually, seeming to have some trouble with it.

“I’m sorry, Tyler,” he said, gesturing toward my car. “I’m stuck behind Cullen.”

He said my surname in a hard voice—he was still irritated with me.

“Oh, I know,” Tyler said, grinning. “I just wanted to ask you something while we’re trapped here.”

His grin was cocky.

“Oh? What?” I was amused by Beau’s exasperated sigh.

“Will you go with me to the spring dance?” he asked, no thought of defeat in his head.

Beau’s face went immediately red, the look in his eyes—I wished I could properly describe it—somewhere between annoyance and utter confusion.

“I’m not going to be in town, Tyler,” he mumbled.

“Yeah, Mike said that.”

“Then why—?”he started to ask.

He shrugged. “I was hoping you were just letting him down easy.”

“I wasn’t.” His eyes flashed, then cooled. “Besides, wouldn’t you rather go with a girl?” His annoyance was rising, and I understood his previous look of confusion now.

 “Usually, but I thought maybe you’d like to have someone to go with as a date instead of going stag.”

I had to admire Tyler’s confidence in the face of those brilliant silver eyes.

“Sorry, Tyler,” he was trying very hard to hide his irritation now, “I really am going out of town.”

“That’s cool. We still have prom.”

He strutted back to his car.

I was right to have waited for this.

The horrified expression on Beau’s face was priceless. It told me what I should not so desperately need to know—that he had no feelings for any of these humans who wished to court him.

Also, his expression was possibly the funniest thing I’d ever seen.

My family arrived then, confused by the fact that I was, for a chance, rocking with laughter rather than scowling murderously at everything in sight.

 _What’s so funny?_ Emmett wanted to know.

I just shook my head while I also shook with fresh laughter as Beau revved his noisy engine angrily. He looked like he was wishing for a tank again.

“Let’s go!” Royal hissed impatiently. “Stop being an idiot. If you _can_.”

His words didn’t annoy me—I was too entertained. But I did as he asked.

No one spoke to me on the way home. I continued to chuckle every now and again, thinking of Beau’s face.

As I turned on to the drive—speeding up now that there were not witnesses—Alice ruined my mood.

“So do I get to talk to Beau now?” she asked suddenly, without considering the words first, thus giving me no warning.

“No,” I snapped.

“Not fair! What am I waiting for?”

“I haven’t decided anything, Alice.”

“Uh-huh. Sure, Edward.”

In her head, Beau’s two destinies were clear again.

“What’s the point in getting to know him?” I mumbled, suddenly morose. “If I’m just going to kill him?”

Alice hesitated for a second. “You have a point,” she admitted.

I took the final hairpin turn at ninety miles an hour, and then screeched to a stop an inch from the back garage wall.

“Enjoy your run,” Royal said smugly as I threw myself out of the car.

But I didn’t go running today. Instead, I went hunting.

The others were scheduled to hunt tomorrow, but I couldn’t afford to be thirsty now. I overdid it, drinking more than necessary, glutting myself again—a small grouping of elk and one black bear I was lucky to stumble across this early in the year. I was so full it was uncomfortable. Why couldn’t that be enough? Why did his scent have to be so much stronger than anything else?

I had hunted in preparation for the next day, but, when I could hunt no more and the sun was still hour and hours from rising, I knew that the next day was not soon enough.

The jittery high swept through me again when I realized that I was going to go find him.

I argued with myself all the way back to Forks, but my less noble side won the argument, and I went ahead with my indefensible plan. The monster was restless but well-fettered. I knew I would keep a safe distance from him. I only wanted to know where he was. I just wanted to see his face.

It was past midnight, and Beau’s house was dark and quiet. His truck was parked against the curb, his father’s police cruiser in the driveway. There were no conscious thoughts anywhere in the neighborhood. I watched the house for a moment from the blackness of the forest that bordered it on the east. The front door would probably be locked—not a problem, except that I didn’t want to leave a broken door as evidence behind me. I decided to try the upstairs window first. Not many people would bother installing a lock there.

I crossed the open yard and scaled the face of the house in half a second. Dangling from the eave above the window by one hand, I looked through the glass, and my breath stopped.

It was his room. I could see him in the one small bed, his covers on the floor and his sheets twisted around his legs. As I watched, he twitched restlessly and threw one arm over his head. He did not sleep soundly, at least not this night. Did he sense the danger near him?

I was repulsed by myself as I watched him toss again. How was I any better than some sick peeping tom? I _wasn’t_ any better. I was much, much worse.

I relaxed my fingertips, about to let myself drop. But first I allowed myself one long look at his face.

It was not peaceful. The little furrow was there between his eyebrows, the corners of his lips turned down. His lips trembled, and then parted.

“Okay, Mom,” he muttered.

Beau talked in his sleep.

Curiosity flared, overpowering self-disgust. The lure of those unprotected, unconsciously spoken thoughts was impossibly tempting.

I tried the window, and it was not locked, though it stuck due to long disuse. I slid it slowly aside, cringing at each faint groan of the metal frame. I would have to find some oil for the next time…

Next time? I shook my head, disgusted again.

I eased myself silently through the half-opened window.

His room was small—disorganized but not unclean. There were books piled on the floor beside his bed, their spines facing away from me, and CDs scattered by his inexpensive CD player—the one on top was just a clear jewel case. Stacks of papers surrounded a computer that looked like it belonged in a museum dedicated to obsolete technologies. Shoes dotted the wooden floor.

I wanted very much to go read the titles of his books and CDs, but I’d promised myself that I would keep my distance; instead, I went to sit in the old rocking chair that sat in the far corner of the room.

Had I really once thought him average-looking? I thought of that first day, and my disgust for everyone who was suddenly so intrigued by him. But when I remembered his face in their minds now, I could not understand why I had not found him beautiful immediately. It seemed an obvious thing.

Right now—with his dark hair tangled and wild framing his pale face, wearing a threadbare t-shirt full of holes with tatty sweatpants, his features relaxed in unconsciousness, his full lips slightly parted—he took my breath away. Or would have, I thought wryly, were I breathing.

He did not speak. Perhaps his dream had ended.

I stared at his face and tried to think of some way to make the future bearable.

Hurting him was not bearable. Did that mean my only choice was to try to leave again?

The others could not argue with me now. My absence would not put anyone in danger. There would be no suspicion, nothing to link anyone’s thoughts back to the accident.

I wavered as I had this afternoon, and nothing seemed possible.

I could not hope to rival the human boys, whether these specific boys appealed to him or not. I was a monster. How could he see me as anything else? If he knew the truth about me, it would frighten and repulse him. Like the intended victim in a horror movie, he would run away, crying out in terror.

I remembered his first day in biology... and knew that this was exactly the right reaction for him to have.

It was foolishness to imagine that if had I been the one to ask him to the silly dance, he would have cancelled his hastily-made plans and agreed to go with me.

I was not the one he was destined to say yes to. It was someone else, someone human and warm. And I could not even let myself—someday, when that yes was said— hunt that human  down and kill him, because Beau deserved him, whoever he was. Beau deserved happiness and love with whomever he chose.

I owed it to him to do the right thing now; I could no longer pretend that I was only _in danger_ of loving this boy.

After all, it really didn’t matter if I left, because Beau could never see me the way I wished he would. Never see me as someone worthy of love.

Never.

Could a dead, frozen heart break? It felt like mine would.

“Edward,” Beau said.

I froze, staring at his unopened eyes.

Had he woken, caught me here? He _looked_ asleep, yet his voice had been so

clear...

He sighed a quiet sigh, and then moved restlessly again, rolling to his side—still

fast asleep and dreaming.

“Edward,” he mumbled softly.

He was dreaming of me.

Could a dead, frozen heart beat again? It felt like mine was about to.

“Stay,” he sighed. “Don’t go. Please...don’t go.”

He was dreaming of me, and it wasn’t even a nightmare. He wanted me to stay

with him, there in his dream.

I struggled to find words to name the feelings that flooded through me, but I had no words strong enough to hold them. For a long moment, I drowned in them.

When I surfaced, I was not the same man I had been.

My life was an unending, unchanging midnight. It must, by necessity, always be

midnight for me. So how was it possible that the sun was rising now, in the middle of my midnight?

At the time that I had become a vampire, trading my soul and my mortality for immortality in the searing pain of transformation, I had truly been frozen. My body had turned into something more like rock than flesh, enduring and unchanging. My _self_ , also, had frozen as it was—my personality, my likes and my dislikes, my moods and my desires; all were fixed in place.

It was the same for the rest of them. We were all frozen. Living stone.

When change came for one of us, it was a rare and permanent thing. I had seen it happen with Carlisle, and then a decade later with Royal. Love had changed them in an eternal way, a way that never faded. More than eighty years had passed since Carlisle had found Esme, and yet he still looked at her with the incredulous eyes of first love. It would always be that way for them.

It would always be that way for me, too. I would always love this fragile human boy, for the rest of my limitless existence.

I gazed at his unconscious face, feeling this love for him settle into every portion of my stone body.

He slept more peacefully now, a slight smile on his lips.

Always watching him, I began to plot.

I loved him, and so I would try to be strong enough to leave him. I knew I wasn’t that strong now. I would work on that one. But perhaps I was strong enough to circumvent the future in another way.

Alice had seen only two futures for Beau, and now I understood them both.

Loving him would not keep me from killing him, if I let myself make mistakes.

Yet I could not feel the monster now, could not find him anywhere in me.

Perhaps love had silenced him forever. If I killed him now, it would not be intentional, only a horrible accident.

I would have to be inordinately careful. I would never, ever be able to let my guard down. I would have to control my every breath. I would have to keep an always cautious distance.

I would not make mistakes.

I finally understood that second future. I’d been baffled by that vision—what could possibly happen to result in Beau becoming a prisoner to this immortal half-life? Now—devastated by longing for him—I could understand how I might, in unforgivable selfishness, ask my father for that favor. Ask him to take away Beau’s life and his soul so that I could keep him forever.

He deserved better.

But I saw one more future, one thin wire that I might be able to walk, if I could keep my balance.

Could I do it? Be with him and leave him human?

Deliberately, I took a deep breath, and then another, letting his scent rip through me like wildfire. The room was thick with his scent; his fragrance was layered on every surface. My head swam, but I fought the spinning. I would have to get used to this, if I were going to attempt any kind of relationship with him. I took another deep, burning breath.

I watched him sleeping until the sun rose behind the eastern clouds, plotting and breathing.

 

I got home just after the others had left for school. I changed quickly, avoiding Esme’s questioning eyes. She saw the feverish light in my face, and she felt both worry and relief. My long melancholy had pained her, and she was glad it seemed to be over.

I ran to school, arriving a few seconds after my siblings did. They did not turn, though Alice at least must have known that I stood here in the thick woods that bordered the pavement. I waited until no one was looking, and then I strolled casually from between the trees into the lot full of parked cars.

I heard Beau’s truck rumbling around the corner, and I paused behind a Suburban, where I could watch without being seen.

He drove into the lot, glaring at my Volvo for a long moment before he parked in one of the most distant spaces, a frown on his face.

It was strange to remember that he was probably still frustrated with me, and with good reason.

I wanted to laugh at myself—or kick myself. All my plotting and planning was entirely moot if if he didn’t care for me, too, wasn’t it? His dream could have been about something completely random. I was such an arrogant fool.

Well, it was so much the better for him if he didn’t care for me. That wouldn’t stop me from pursuing him, but I would give him fair warning as I pursued. I owed him that.

I walked silently forward, wondering how best to approach him.

He made it easy. His truck key slipped through his fingers as he got out, and fell into a deep puddle.

He reached down, but I got to it first, retrieving it before he had to put his fingers in the cold water.

I leaned back against his truck as he started and then straightened up.

“How do you _do_ that?” he gasped.

Yes, he was still frustrated. It was evident on his face.

I offered him the key. “Do what?”

He held his hand out, and I dropped the key in his palm. I took a deep breath, pulling in his scent.

“Appear out of thin air,” he clarified.

“Beau, it’s not my fault if you were exceptionally unobservant.” The words were wry, almost a joke. Was there anything he didn’t see?

Did he hear how my voice wrapped around his name like a caress?

He glared at me, not appreciating my humor. His heartbeat sped—from anger? From fear? After a moment, he looked down.

“Why the traffic jam last night?” he asked without meeting my eyes. “I thought you were supposed to be pretending I don’t exist.”

Still very frustrated. It was going to take some effort to make things right with him. I remembered my resolve to be truthful with him.

“That was for Tyler’s sake, not mine. I had to give him his chance.” And then I laughed. I couldn’t help it, thinking of his expression yesterday.

“What?“ he asked, confused and irritated. There it was—that same expression. I choked back another laugh. He was mad enough already.

“And I’m not pretending you don’t exist,” I finished. It was right to keep this casual, teasing. He would not understand if I let him see how I really felt. I would frighten him. I had to keep my feelings in check, keep things light…

“I don’t know what you want from me.” He said, sounding almost defeated.

_Everything, I want everything from you. Your love, your trust, you…_

“Nothing.” I said it too quickly, not keeping my façade in place.

“Then you probably should have let the van take me out. Easier that way.”

A quick flash of anger pulsed through me. Could he honestly believe that?

It was irrational for me to be so affronted—he didn’t know of the transformation that had happened in the night. But I was angry all the same.

“Beau, you are utterly absurd,” I snapped.

His face flushed, and he turned his back on me. He began to walk away.

Remorse. I had no right to my anger.

“Wait,” I pleaded.

He did not stop, so I followed after him.

“I’m sorry, that was rude.”

He ignored me.

I continued. “I’m not saying it isn’t true”—it _was_ absurd to imagine that I wanted him harmed in any way—“but it was rude to say it, anyway.”

“Why won’t you leave me alone?”

 _Believe me_ , I wanted to say. _I’ve tried_.

_Oh, and also, I’m wretchedly in love with you._

Keep it light.

“I wanted to ask you something, but you sidetracked me.” A course of action had just occurred to me, and I laughed.

He sighed, but he slowed his pace. “Fine then. What do you want to ask?”

“I was wondering if, a week from Saturday…” I imagined the look on his face, and choked back another laugh. “You know, the day of the spring dance—“

He cut me off, finally wheeling to face me. “Are you trying to be _funny_?”

Yes. “Will you let me finish?”

He waited in silence, his teeth pressing into his soft lower lip.

That sight distracted me for a second. Strange, unfamiliar reactions stirred deep in my forgotten human core. I tried to shake them off so I could play my role.

“I heard you say that you were going to Seattle that day, and I was wondering if you wanted a ride?” I offered. I’d realized that, better than just questioning him about his plans, I might _share_ them.

He stared at me blankly. “What?”

“Do you want a ride to Seattle?” Alone in a car with him—my throat burned at the thought. I took a deep breath. _Get used to it._

“With who?” he asked, his eyes wide and bewildered again.

“Myself, obviously,” I said slowly.

“Why?”

Was it really such a shock that I would want his company? He must have applied the worst possible meaning to my past behavior.

“Well,” I said as casually as possible, “I was planning to go to Seattle in the next few weeks, and, to be honest, I’m not sure if your truck can make it.” It seemed safer to tease him than to allow myself to be serious.

“My truck works just fine, thank you very much for your concern,” he said in the same surprised voice. He started walking again. I kept pace with him.

He hadn’t really said no, so I pressed that advantage.

Would he say no? What would I do if he did?

“But can your truck make it there on one tank of gas?”

“I don’t see how that’s any of your business,” he grumbled.

That still wasn’t a no. And his heart was beating faster again, his breath coming more quickly.

“The wasting of finite resources is everyone’s business.”

“Honestly, Edward, I can’t keep up with you. I thought you didn’t want to be my friend.”

A thrill shot through me when he spoke my name.

How to keep it light and yet be honest at the same time? Well, it was more important to be honest. Especially on this point.

“I said it would be better if we weren’t friends, not that I didn’t want to be.”

“Oh, thanks, now that’s _all_ cleared up,” he said sarcastically.

He paused, under the edge of the cafeteria’s roof, and met my gaze. His heartbeats stuttered. Was he afraid?

I chose my words carefully. No, I could not leave him, but maybe he would be smart enough to leave me, before it was too late.

“It would be more… _prudent_ for you not to be my friend.” Staring into the molten silver depths of his eyes, I lost my hold on _light_. “But I’m tired of trying to stay away from you, Beau.” The words burned with much too much fervor.

His breathing stopped and, in the second it took for it to restart, that worried me. How much had I scared him? Well, I would find out.

“Will you go to Seattle with me?” I demanded, point blank.

He nodded, his heart drumming loudly.

 _Yes_. He’d said yes to _me_.

And then my conscience smote me. What would this cost him?

“You really _should_ stay away from me,” I warned him. Did he hear me? Would he escape the future I was threatening him with? Couldn’t I do anything to save him from _me_?

 _Keep it light,_ I shouted at myself. “I’ll see you in class.”

I had to concentrate to stop myself from running as I fled.


	6. Blood Type

I followed him all day through other people’s eyes, barely aware of my own surroundings.

Not Mike Newton’s eyes, because I couldn’t stand any more of his offensive fantasies, and not Jessica Stanley’s, because her rambling thoughts were almost too difficult for even I to follow. Angela Weber was a good choice when her eyes were available; she was kind—her head was an easy place to be. And then sometimes it was the teachers who provided the best view.

I was surprised, watching him stumble through the day—tripping over cracks in the sidewalk, stray books, and, most often, his own feet—that the people I eavesdropped on thought of Beau as _clumsy_.

I considered that. It was true that he often had trouble staying upright. I remembered him stumbling into the desk on that first day, sliding around on the ice before the accident, falling over the low lip of the doorframe yesterday… How odd, they were right. He _was_ clumsy.

I don’t know why this was so funny to me, but I laughed out loud as I walked from American History to English and several people shot me wary looks. How had I never noticed this before? Perhaps because there was something very graceful about him in stillness, the way he held his head, the arch of his neck…

There was nothing graceful about him now. Mr. Varner watched as he caught the toe of his boot on the carpet and literally fell into his chair.

The time moved with incredible sluggishness while I waited for my chance to see him with my own eyes. Finally, the bell rang. I strode quickly to the cafeteria to secure my spot. I was the first one there. I chose a table that was usually empty, and was sure to remain that way with me seated here.

When my family entered and saw me sitting alone in a new place, they were not surprised. Alice must have warned them.

Royal stalked past me without a glance.

 _Idiot_.

Royal and I had never had an easy relationship—I’d offended him the very first time he’d heard me speak, and it was downhill from there—but it seemed like he was even more ill-tempered than usual the last few days. I sighed. Royal made everything about himself.

Jasper gave me half a smile as he walked by.

 _Good luck_ , he thought doubtfully.

Emmett rolled his eyes and shook his head.

 _Lost his mind, poor kid_.

Alice was beaming, her teeth shining too brightly.

_Can I talk to Beau now??_

“Keep out of it,” I said under my breath.

Her face fell, and then brightened again.

_Fine. Be stubborn. It’s only a matter of time._

I sighed again.

 _Don’t forget about today’s biology lab_ , she reminded me.

I nodded. No, I hadn’t forgotten that.

While I waited for Beau to arrive, I followed him in the eyes of the freshman who was walking behind Jessica on his way to the cafeteria. Jessica was babbling about the upcoming dance, but Beau said nothing in response. Not that Jessica gave him much of a chance.

The moment Beau walked through the door, his eyes flashed to the table where my siblings sat. He stared for a moment, and then his forehead crumpled and his eyes dropped to the floor. He hadn’t noticed me here.

He looked so… _sad_. I felt a powerful urge to get up and go to his side, to comfort him somehow, only I didn’t know what he would find comforting. I had no idea what made him look that way. Jessica continued to jabber about the dance. Was Beau sad that he was going to miss it? That didn’t seem likely…

But that could be remedied, if he wished.

He bought a drink for his lunch and nothing else. Was that right? Didn’t he need more nutrition than that? I’d never paid much attention to a human’s diet before.

Humans were quite exasperatingly fragile! There were a million different things to worry about…

“Edward Cullen is staring at you again,” I heard Jessica say. “I wonder why he’s sitting alone today?”

I was grateful to Jessica because Beau’s head snapped up and his eyes searched until they met mine.

There was no trace of sadness in his face now. I let myself hope that he’d been sad because he’d thought I’d left school early, and that hope made me smile.

I motioned with my finger for him to join me. He looked so startled by this that I wanted to tease him again.

So I winked, and his mouth fell open.

“Does he mean _you_?” Jessica asked, her shock too apparent.

“Maybe he needs help with his Biology homework,” he said in a low, uncertain voice. “Um, I’d better go see what he wants.”

This was another yes.

He stumbled twice on his way to my table, though there was nothing in his way but perfectly even linoleum. Honestly, how _had_ I missed this before? I’d been paying more attention to his silent thoughts, I supposed… What else had I missed?

 _Keep it honest, keep it light_ , I chanted to myself.

He stopped behind the chair across from me, hesitating. I inhaled deeply, through my nose this time rather than my mouth.

 _Feel the burn_ , I thought dryly.

“Why don’t you sit with me today?” I asked him.

He pulled the chair out and sat, staring at me the whole while. He seemed nervous, but his physical acceptance was yet another yes.

I waited for him to speak.

It took a moment, but, finally, he said, “This is different.”

Well…” I hesitated. “I decided as long as I was going to hell, I might as well do it thoroughly.”

What had made me say _that_? I supposed it was honest, at least, if not light in the slightest. And perhaps he’d hear the unsubtle warning my words implied. Maybe he would realize that he should get up and walk away as quickly as possible…

He didn’t get up. He stared at me, waiting, as if I’d left my sentence unfinished.

“You know I don’t have any idea what you mean,” he said when I didn’t continue.

That was a relief. I smiled.

“I know.”

It was hard to ignore the thoughts screaming at me from behind his back—and I wanted to change the subject anyway.

“I think your friends are angry at me for stealing you.”

This did not appear to concern him. “They’ll survive.”

“I may not give you back, though.” I didn’t even know if I was trying to be honest now, or just trying to tease him again. Being near him made it hard to make sense of my own thoughts.

Beau’s breath seemed to catch.

I laughed at his expression. “You look worried.” It really _shouldn’t_ be funny… He should worry.

“No.” He was a bad liar; it didn’t help that his voice broke. “Surprised, actually… What brought this on?”

“I told you,” I reminded him. “I got tired of trying to stay away from you. So I’m giving up.” I held my smile in place with a bit of effort. This wasn’t working at all—trying to be honest and casual at the same time.

“Giving up?” he repeated, baffled.

“Yes—giving up trying to be good.” And, apparently, giving up trying to be casual. “I’m just going to do what I want now, and let the chips fall where they may.” That was honest enough. Let him see my selfishness. Let that warn him, too.

“You lost me again.”

I was selfish enough to be glad that this was the case. “I always say too much when I’m talking to you—that’s one of the problems.”

A rather insignificant problem, compared to the rest.

“Don’t worry,” he reassured me. “I don’t understand any of it.”

Good. Then he’d stay. “I’m counting on that.”

“So, in plain English, are we friends now?”

I pondered that for a second. “Friends…” I repeated. I didn’t like the sound of that. It wasn’t enough.

“Or not,” he offered, looking slightly disappointed.

Did he think I didn’t like him that much?

I smiled. “Well, we can try I suppose. But I’m warning you now that I’m not a good friend for you.”

I waited for his response, torn in two—wishing he would finally hear and understand, thinking I might die if he did. How melodramatic. I was turning into such a human.

His heart beat faster. “You say that a lot.”

“Yes, because you’re not listening to me,” I said, too intense again. “I’m still waiting for you to hear me. If you’re smart, you’ll avoid me.”

Ah, but would I be able to accept that, if he tried?

His smiled then, I couldn’t stop my own smile from widening in response. “I thought we’d already come to the conclusion that I’m… what was it? _Absurd_. I suppose… not smart isn’t far behind.”

He was sharp, I was somehow always surprised by him. I smiled apologetically, realizing how unkind my previous words had been.

“So,” he said slowly. “As long as I’ being absurdly unintelligent,” I laughed at his wry wit, he continued, “we’ll try to be friends?”

“That sounds about right.”

He looked down, staring intently at the lemonade bottle in his hands.

The old curiosity tormented me.

“What are you thinking?” I asked—it was a relief to say the words out loud instead of silently fuming over them.

He met my gaze, and his breathing sped while his cheeks flushed faint pink. I inhaled, tasting that in the air.

“I’m trying to figure out what you are.”

I held the smile on my face, locking my features that way, while panic twisted though my body.

Of course he was wondering that. He wasn’t stupid. I couldn’t hope for him to be oblivious to something so obvious.

“Are you having any luck with that?” I asked as lightly as I could manage.

“Not too much,” he admitted.

I chuckled in sudden relief. “What are your theories?”

They couldn’t be worse than the truth, no matter what he’d come up with.

His cheeks turned a brighter red, and he said nothing. I could feel the warmth of his blush in the air.

I tried using my persuasive tone on him. It worked well on normal humans.

“Won’t you tell me?” I smiled encouragingly.

He shook his head. “Too embarrassing.”

Ugh. Not knowing was worse than anything else. Why would his speculations embarrass him? I couldn’t stand not knowing.

“That’s _really_ frustrating, you know _._ ”

My complaint sparked something in him. His eyes flashed and he raised an eyebrow. His words flowed more swiftly than usual.

“Really? Like, someone refusing to tell you what they’re thinking, even if all the while he’s making cryptic little remarks specifically designed to keep you up at night wondering what he could possibly mean… frustrating like that?”

I frowned at him, upset to realize that he was right. I wasn’t being fair.

He went on. “Or is it frustrating like, say, he’s also done a bunch of other strange things—for example, saving your life under impossible circumstances one day, then treating you like a pariah the next—and he never explained that, either, even after he promised he would. Frustrating like that?”

It was the longest speech I’d ever heard him make, and it gave me a new quality for my list. He believed in fairness. He didn’t like double standards.

And he was right, of course. He seemed to be right about most things.

“You’re still not over that, are you?”

“No, not quite.” He said, eyebrow still raised.

“Would an apology help?”

“It wouldn’t hurt.”

I smiled at him, “I’m sorry I broke my promise.”

He blushed again. “Th-thank you.” His voice was soft, almost surprised. “It’s still not an explanation.”

I stared at Beau, wondering how I could possibly do anything right by him, until the silent shouting in Mike Newton’s head distracted me.

He was so irate that it made me chuckle.

“What?” He asked.

“Your boyfriend seems to think I’m being unpleasant to you—he’s debating whether or not to come break up our fight.” I would love to see him try. I laughed again.

“I don’t have a boyfriend,” he said, coolly, “and you’re trying to change the subject.”

I very much enjoyed the way he disowned him with his dismissive sentence. I chose to ignore the latter part of his statement.

“You might not think of him that way, but he wishes you did.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I do. I told you, most people are easy to read.”

“Except me, of course.”

“Yes. Except for you.” Did he have to be the exception to everything? Wouldn’t it have been more fair—considering everything else I had to deal with now—if I could have at least heard _something_ from his head? Was that so much to ask? “I wonder why that is?”

I stared into his eyes, trying again…

He looked away. He opened his lemonade and took a quick drink, his eyes on the table.

“Aren’t you hungry?” I asked.

“No.” He eyed the table between us. “You?”

“No, I’m not hungry,” I said. I was definitely not that.

He stared at the table, his lips pursed. I waited.

“Can you do me a favor?” he asked, suddenly meeting my gaze again.

What would he want from me? Would he ask for the truth that I wasn’t allowed to tell him—the truth I didn’t want him to ever, ever know?

“That depends on what you want.”

“It’s not much,” he promised.

I waited, curious again.

“Could you warn me beforehand?” he said slowly, staring at the lemonade bottle, tracing its lip with his littlest finger. “The next time you decide to ignore me for my own good? Just so I’m prepared.”

He wanted a warning? Then being ignored by me must be a bad thing… I smiled.

“That sounds fair,” I agreed.

“Thanks,” he said, looking up. His face was so relieved that I wanted to laugh with my own relief.

“Then can I have a favor in return?” I asked hopefully.

“One,” he allowed.

“Tell me _one_ theory.”

He flushed. “Not that favor.”

“You didn’t qualify, you just promised one favor,” I argued.

“And you’ve broken promises yourself,” he deftly countered.

He had me there.

“Just one theory—I won’t laugh.”

“Yes, you will.” He seemed very sure of that, though I couldn’t imagine anything that would be funny about it.

I gave persuasion another try. I stared deep into his eyes—an easy thing to do, with eyes so deep—and whispered, “Please?”

He blinked, and his face went blank.

Well, that wasn’t exactly the reaction I’d been going for.

“Er, what?” he asked. He looked dizzy. What was wrong with him?

But I wasn’t giving up yet.

“Tell me just one little theory,” I pleaded in my soft, non-frightening voice, holding his eyes in mine. “Please?”

To my surprise and satisfaction, it finally worked.

“Um, well, bitten by a radioactive spider?”

Comic books? No wonder he thought I would laugh.

“That’s not very creative,” I chided him, trying to hide my fresh relief.

“I’m sorry, that’s all I’ve got,” he said, offended.

This relieved me even more. I was able to tease him again.

“You’re not even close.”

“No spiders?”

“Nope.”

“And no radioactivity?”

“None.”

“Dang,” he sighed.

“Kryptonite doesn’t bother me, either,” I said quickly—before he could ask about _bites_ —and then I had to laugh, because he thought I was a superhero.

“You’re not supposed to laugh, remember?”

I pressed my lips together.

“I’ll figure it out eventually,” he promised.

And when he did, he would run.

“I wish you wouldn’t try,” I said, all teasing gone.

“Because…?”

I owed him honesty. Still, I tried to smile, to make my words sound less threatening. “What if I’m not a superhero? What if I’m the bad guy?”

His eyes widened by a fraction and his lips fell slightly apart. “Oh,” he said. And then, after another second, “I see.”

He’d finally heard me.

“Do you?” I asked, working to conceal my agony.

“You’re dangerous?” he guessed. His breathing hiked, and his heart raced.

I couldn’t answer him. Was this my last moment with him? Would he run now? Could I be allowed to tell him that I loved him before he left? Or would that frighten him more?

“But not the bad guy,” he whispered, shaking his head, no fear in his clear eyes. “No, I don’t believe that.”

“You’re wrong,” I breathed.

Of course I was bad. Wasn’t I rejoicing now, that he thought better of me than I deserved? If I were a good person, I would have stayed away from him.

I stretched my hand across the table, reaching for the lid to his lemonade bottle as an excuse. He did not flinch away from my suddenly closer hand. He really was not afraid of me. Not yet.

I spun the lid like a top, watching it instead of him. My thoughts were in a snarl.

 _Run, Beau, run_. I couldn’t make myself say the words out loud.

He jumped to his feet. “We’re going to be late,” he said, just as I’d started to worry that he’d somehow heard my silent warning.

“I’m not going to class today.”

“Why not?”

 _Because I don’t want to kill you_. “It’s healthy to ditch class now and then.” I looked up at his piercing gray eyes, and tried to smile casually.

To be precise, it was healthier for humans if the vampires ditched on days when human blood would be spilt. Mrs. Banner was blood typing today. Alice had already ditched her morning class.

“Well, I’m going,” he said. This didn’t surprise me. He was responsible—he always did the right thing.

He was my opposite.

“I’ll see you later then,” I said, trying for casual again, staring back down at the whirling lid. _And, by the way, I adore you… in frightening, dangerous ways._

He hesitated, and I hoped for a moment that he would stay with me after all. But the bell rang and he hurried away.

I waited until he was gone, and then I put the lid in my pocket—a souvenir of this most consequential conversation—and walked through the rain to my car.

I put on my favorite calming CD—the same one I’d listened to that first day—but I wasn’t hearing Debussy’s notes for long. Other notes were running through my head, a fragment of a tune that pleased and intrigued me. I turned down the stereo and listened to the music in my head, playing with the fragment until it evolved into a fuller harmony. Instinctively, my fingers moved in the air over imaginary piano keys.

The new composition was really coming along when my attention was caught by a wave of mental anguish.

I looked toward the distress.

 _Is he going to pass out? What do I do?_ Mike panicked.

A hundred yards away, Mike Newton was lowering Beau’s limp body to the sidewalk. He slumped unresponsively against the wet concrete, his eyes closed, his skin chalky as a corpse.

I almost took the door off the car.

“Beau?” I shouted.

There was no change in his lifeless face when I yelled his name.

My whole body went colder than ice.

I was aware of Mike’s aggravated surprise as I sifted furiously through his thoughts. He was only thinking of his anger towards me, so I didn’t know what was wrong with Beau. If he’d done something to harm him, I would annihilate him.

“What’s wrong—is he hurt?” I demanded, trying to focus on his thoughts. It was maddening to have to walk at a human pace. I should not have called attention to my approach.

Then I could hear Beau’s heart beating and his even breath. As I watched, he squeezed his eyes more tightly shut. That eased some of my panic.

I saw a flicker of memories in Mike’s head, a splash of images from the Biology room. Beau’s head on our table, his fair skin turning green. Drops of red against the white cards…

Blood typing.

I stopped where I was, holding my breath. His scent was one thing, his flowing blood was another altogether.

“I think he fainted,” Mike said, anxious and resentful at the same time. “I don’t know what happened, he didn’t even stick his finger.”

Relief washed through me, and I breathed again, tasting the air. Ah, I could smell the tiny flow of Mike Newton’s puncture wound. Once, that might have appealed to me.

I knelt beside Beau while Mike hovered next to me, furious at my intervention.

“Beau. Can you hear me?”

“No,” he moaned. “Go away.”

The relief was so exquisite that I laughed. He was fine.

“I was taking him to the nurse,” Mike said. “But he wouldn’t go any farther.”

“I’ll take him. You can go back to class,” I said dismissively.

Mike’s teeth clenched together. “What? No. I’m supposed to do it.”

I wasn’t going to stand around arguing with the wretch.

Thrilled and terrified, half-grateful to and half-aggrieved by the predicament which made touching him a necessity, I gently lifted Beau from the sidewalk and held him in my arms, touching only his clothes, keeping as much distance between our bodies as possible. I was striding forward in the same movement, in a hurry to have him safe—farther away from me, in other words.

His eyes popped open, astonished.

“I’m fine, I swear. Put me down,” he ordered in a weak voice—embarrassed again, I guessed from his expression. He didn’t like to show weakness.

I barely heard Mike’s shouted protest behind us.

“You look awful,” I told him, grinning because there was nothing wrong with him but a light head and a weak stomach.

“Put me back on the sidewalk,” he said. His lips were white. “I’ll be fine in a few minutes.”

“So you faint at the sight of blood?” Could it possibly be any more ironic?

He closed his eyes and pressed his lips together.

“And not even your own blood,” I added, my grin widening.

We were to the front office. The door was propped an inch open, and I kicked it out of my way.

Ms. Cope jumped, startled. “Oh, my,” she gasped as she examined the ashen boy in my arms.

“He fainted in Biology,” I explained, before her imagination could get too out of hand.

Ms. Cope hurried to open the door to the nurse’s office. Beau’s eyes were open again, watching her. I heard the elderly nurse’s internal astonishment as I laid the boy carefully on the shabby bed. As soon as Beau was out of my arms, I put the width of the room between us. My body was too excited, too eager, my muscles tense and the venom flowing. He was so warm and fragrant.

“He’s just a little faint,” I reassured Mrs. Hammond. “They’re blood typing in biology.”

She nodded, understanding now. “There’s always one.”

I stifled a laugh. Trust Beau to be that one.

“Just lie down for a minute, honey,” Mrs. Hammond said. “It’ll pass.”

“I know,” Beau said.

“Does this happen often?” the nurse asked.

“Sometimes,” Beau admitted.

I tried to disguise my laughter as coughing.

This brought me back to the nurse’s attention. “You can go back to class now,” she said.

I looked her straight in the eye and lied with perfect confidence. “I’m supposed to stay with him.”

 _Hmm. I wonder… oh well._ Mrs. Hammond nodded.

It worked fine on her. Why did Beau have to be so difficult?

“I’ll go get you some ice for your forehead, dear,” the nurse said, slightly uncomfortable from looking into my eyes—the way a human _should_ be—and left the room.

“You were right,” Beau moaned, closing his eyes.

What did he mean? I jumped to the worst conclusion: he’d accepted my warnings.

“I usually am,” I said, trying to keep the amusement in my voice; it sounded sour now. “but about what in particular this time?”

“Ditching _is_ healthy,” he sighed.

Ah, relief again.

He was silent then. He just breathed slowly in and out. His lips were beginning to turn pink. His mouth was slightly out of balance, his lower lip just a little too full to match the top. Staring at his mouth made me feel strange. Made me want to move closer to him, which was not a good idea.

“You scared me for a minute there,” I said—to restart the conversation so that I could hear his voice again. “I thought Newton was dragging your dead body off to bury it in the woods.”

“Hilarious,” he said.

“Honestly—I’ve seen corpses with better color.” This was actually true. “I was concerned that I might have to avenge your murder.” And I would have.

“That’s morbid.”

I had to chuckle at his dry delivery.

“Poor Mike,” he sighed. “I’ll bet he’s mad.”

Fury pulsed through me, but I contained it quickly. His concern was surely just pity. He was kind. That was all.

“He absolutely loathes me,” I told him, cheered by the idea.

“You can’t know that.”

“I saw his face—I could tell.” It was probably true that reading his face would have given me enough information to make that particular deduction. All this practice with Beau was sharpening my skill at reading human expressions.

“How did you see me? I thought you were ditching.” His face looked better—the green undertone had vanished from his translucent skin.

“I was in my car, listening to a CD.”

His expression twitched, like my very ordinary answer had surprised him somehow.

He opened his eyes again when Mrs. Hammond returned with an ice pack.

“Here you go, dear,” the nurse said as she laid it across Beau’s forehead. “You’re looking better.”

“I think I’m fine,” Beau said, and he sat up while pulling the ice pack away. Of course. He didn’t like to be taken care of.

Mrs. Hammond’s wrinkled hands fluttered toward him, as if she were going to push him back down, but just then Ms. Cope opened the door to the office and leaned in. With her appearance came the smell of fresh blood, just a whiff.

Invisible in the office behind her, Mike Newton was still very angry, wishing the heavy boy he dragged now was the one who was in here with me.

“We’ve got another one,” Ms. Cope said.

Beau quickly jumped down from the cot, eager to be out of the spotlight.

“Here,” he said, handing the compress back to Mrs. Hammond. “I don’t need this.”

Mike grunted as he half-shoved Lee Stevens through the door. Blood was still dripping down the hand Lee held to his face, trickling toward his wrist.

“Oh no.” This was my cue to leave—and Beau’s, too, it seemed. “Get out to the office, Beau.”

He stared at me with bewildered eyes.

“Trust me—go.”

He whirled and caught the door before it had swung shut, rushing through to the office. I followed a few inches behind him.

He turned to look at me, still wide-eyed.

“You actually listened to me.” That was a first.

His nose wrinkled. “I smelled the blood.”

I stared at him in blank surprise. “People can’t smell blood.”

“Yeah, I can.”

“No.” I argued, stubbornly. “Humans can smell the iron in blood, but only when it’s rubbed against skin or sometimes when there are large amounts or it’s dried.” I paused for a fraction of a second. I slipped up again. The way I had said _humans_. Like I wasn’t one. I only hoped he hadn’t caught that. It was foolish of me to hope. He noticed everything. I continued. “Either way, you shouldn’t be able to smell a pinprick of fresh blood.”

“Well, I can—that’s what makes me sick. It smells like rust… and salt.”

My face froze, still staring.

Was _he_ really even human? He _looked_ human. He felt soft as a human. He smelled human—well, better actually. He acted human… sort of. But he didn’t think like a human, or respond like one.

What other option was there, though?

“What?’ he demanded.

“It’s nothing.”

Mike Newton interrupted us then, entering the room with resentful, violent thoughts.

“ _You_ look better,” he said to Beau rudely.

My hand twitched, wanting to teach him some manners. I would have to watch myself, or I would end up actually killing this obnoxious boy.

“Just keep your hand in your pocket,” Beau said. For one wild second, I thought he was talking to me.

“It’s not bleeding anymore,” Mike answered sullenly. “Are you going back to class?”

“Are you kidding? I’d just have to turn around and come back.”

That was very good. I’d thought I was going to have to miss this whole hour with him, and now I got extra time instead. I felt greedy, a miser hoarding over each minute.

“Yeah, I guess…” Mike mumbled. “So are you going this weekend? To the beach?”

Ah, they had plans. Anger froze me in place. It was a group trip, though. I’d seen some of this in other students’ heads. It wasn’t just the two of them. I was still furious. I leaned motionlessly against the counter, trying to control myself.

“Sure, I said I was in,” Beau promised Mike.

So he’d said yes to him, too. The jealousy burned, more painful than thirst.

No, it was just a group outing, I tried to convince myself. He was just spending the day with friends. Nothing more.

“We’re meeting at my dad’s store, at ten.” _And Cullen’s not invited._

“I’ll be there,” Beau said.

“I’ll see you in Gym, then.”

“Yeah, see you,” he replied.

Mike shuffled off to his class, his thoughts full of ire. _What does Beau see in that freak? Sure, he’s rich I guess. I suppose he’s good looking, but he’s too… too perfect. I bet his dad experiments with plastic surgery on all of them. That’s why they’re all so pale and pretty. It’s not natural. And he’s sort of… scary-looking. Sometimes, when he stares at me, I’d swear he’s thinking about killing me… Freak…_

Mike wasn’t entirely unperceptive.

“Gym,” Beau repeated quietly. A groan.

I looked at him, and saw that he was sad about something again. I wasn’t sure why, but it was clear that he didn’t want to go to his next class with Mike, and I was all for that plan.

I went to his side and bent close to his face, feeling the warmth of his skin radiating out to my lips. I didn’t dare breathe.

“I can take care of that,” I murmured. “Go sit down and look pale.”

He did as I asked, sitting in one of the folding chairs and leaning his head back against the wall, while, behind me, Ms. Cope came out of the back room and went to her desk. With his eyes closed, Beau looked as if he’d passed out again. His full color hadn’t returned yet.

I turned to the secretary. Hopefully Beau was paying attention to this, I thought sardonically. This was how a human was _supposed_ to respond.

“Ms. Cope?” I asked, using my persuasive voice again.

Her eyelashes fluttered, and her heart sped up. _Too young, get a hold of yourself!_ “Yes?”

That was interesting. When Shelly Cope’s pulse quickened, it was because she found me physically attractive, not because she was frightened. I was used to that around human females… yet, I hadn’t considered that explanation for Beau’s racing heart.

I rather liked that. Too much, in fact. I smiled, and Ms. Cope’s breathing got louder.

“Beau has gym next hour, and I don’t think he feels well enough. Actually, I was thinking I should take him home now. Do you think you could excuse him from class?” I stared into her depthless eyes, enjoying the havoc that this wreaked on her thought processes. Was it possible that Beau…?

Ms. Cope had to swallow loudly before she answered. “Do you need to be excused, too, Edward?”

“No, I have Mrs. Goff, she won’t mind.”

I wasn’t paying much attention to her now. I was exploring this new possibility.

Hmm. I’d like to believe that Beau found me attractive like other humans did, but when did Beau ever have the same reactions as other humans? I shouldn’t get my hopes up.

“Okay, it’s all taken care of. You feel better, Beau.”

Beau nodded weakly—overacting a bit.

“Can you walk, or do you want me to carry you again?” I asked, amused by his poor theatrics. I knew he would want to walk—he wouldn’t want to be weak.

“I’ll walk,” he said.

Right again. I was getting better at this.

He got up, hesitating for a moment as if to check his balance. I held the door for him, and we walked out into the rain.

I watched him as he lifted his face to the light rain with his eyes closed, a slight smile on his lips. _What was he thinking_? I stared, nearly in awe, of the subtle beauty of him. His skin was beautiful, flawless. His dark curls, dampened by the rain, clung to his ivory face.

“Thanks,” he said, smiling at me now. “It’s worth getting sick to miss Gym.”

I stared across the campus, wondering how to prolong my time with him. “Anytime,” I said.

“So are you going? This Saturday, I mean?” he sounded hopeful.

Ah, his hope was soothing. He wanted me with him, not Mike Newton. And I wanted to say yes. But there were many things to consider. For one, the sun would be shining this Saturday…

“Where are you all going, exactly?” I tried to keep my voice nonchalant, as if it didn’t matter much. Mike had said _beach_ , though. Not much chance of avoiding sunlight there.

“Down to La Push, to First Beach.”

 _Damn_. Well, it was impossible, then.

Anyway, Emmett would be irritated if I cancelled our plans.

I glanced down at him, smiling wryly. “I really don’t think I was invited.”

He sighed, already resigned. “I just invited you.”

“Let’s you and I not push poor Mike any further this week. We don’t want him to snap.” I thought about snapping _poor Mike_ myself, and enjoyed the mental picture intensely.

“Mike-schmike,” he said, dismissive again. I smiled widely.

And then he started to walk away from me.

Without thinking about my action, I reached out and caught him by the back of his rain jacket. He jerked to a stop.

“Where do you think you’re going?” My voice sounded surprised, perhaps from my actions, but I couldn’t stand the thought of him leaving me. I hadn’t had enough time with him. He couldn’t go, not so soon.

“I’m going home,” he said, baffled as to why this should upset me.

“Did you hear me promise to take you safely home? Do you think I’m going to let you drive in your condition?” I knew he wouldn’t like _that_ —my implication of weakness on his part. But I needed to practice for the Seattle trip, anyway. See if I could handle his proximity in an enclosed space. This was a much shorter journey.

“What condition?” he demanded. “And what about my truck?”

“You’ve had quite the day, Beau.” I smiled soothingly.

“Okay, so what do you suggest?”

His annoyed expression made me smile wider, “I suggest that you get into my car, and you let me drive you home.”

He narrowed his eyes at me. “Okay, first of all that’s not necessary, and second, what about my truck?”

“Necessary is a subjective word.” I grinned. “I’ll have Alice drop it off after school.”

He turned to face me, and I reluctantly let go of his jacket. He looked up at me, first with defiance, but it seemed to waver slightly after a moment. He didn’t speak.

“Are you going to put up a fuss?”

“Is there any point in resisting?” He sighed, defeated.

I grinned. _Oh, but it’s I who can’t resist you_.

“It warms my cold heart to see you learning so quickly.” I gestured in the direction of the car. “This way.”

“You’re not cute.” He narrowed his eyes at me and I had to laugh at his expression.

“It’s open.”

I got in on my side and started the car. He held his body rigidly, still outside, though the rain had picked up and I knew he didn’t like the cold and wet. Water was soaking through his thick hair, darkening it to near black.

“I really am perfectly capable of driving myself home!”

Of course he was—I just wasn’t capable of letting him go.

I lowered his window and leaned toward him. “Get in, Beau.”

His eyes narrowed and he stayed perfectly still.

I sighed in frustration. “Please, Beau?” I suppose I could add stubborn to my list of qualities.

“This is really unnecessary,” He said with a resigned sigh as he opened his door and climbed in. His hair dripped on the leather and his boots squeaked against each other.

I smiled at my victory as I turned up the heater so he wouldn’t be uncomfortable, and set the music to a nice background level. I drove out toward the exit, watching him from the corner of my eye. His lower lip was jutting out stubbornly. I stared at this, examining how it made me feel… thinking of the secretary’s reaction again…

Suddenly he looked at the stereo and smiled, his eyes widening. “Clair de Lune?” he asked.

A fan of the classics? “You know Debussy?”

“Not well,” he said. “My mother plays a lot of classical music around the house—I only know my favorites.”

“It’s one of my favorites, too.” I stared at the rain, considering that. I actually had something in common with him. I’d begun to think that we were polar opposites in every way.

“Well, imagine that,” he said softly, “We have something in common.”

If I didn’t know any better, I’d have sworn he could read my mind. I smiled at his words.

He seemed more relaxed now, staring at the rain like me, with unseeing eyes. I used his momentary distraction to experiment with breathing.

I inhaled carefully through my nose.

Potent.

I clutched at the steering wheel tighter. The rain made him smell better. I wouldn’t have thought that was possible. Stupidly, I was suddenly imagining how he would taste.

I tried to swallow against the burn in my throat, to think of something else.

“What is your mother like?” I asked as a distraction.

Beau smiled and he glanced over to me. “She looks a lot like me—same eyes, same chin.”

So I had his mother to thank for those brilliant eyes.

“I have Charlie’s hair, though,” he went on. “My mom is more outgoing than I am, and braver.”

I doubted that, too.

“She’s irresponsible and slightly eccentric, and she’s a very unpredictable cook. She’s my best friend.” His voice had turned melancholy; his forehead creased.

Again, he sounded more like parent than child.

I stopped in front of his house, wondering too late if I was supposed to know where he lived. No, this wouldn’t be suspicious in such a small town, with his father a public figure…

“How old are you, Beau?” He must be older than his peers. Perhaps he’d been late to start school, or been held back… that wasn’t likely, though.

“I’m seventeen,” he answered.

“You don’t seem seventeen.”

He laughed.

“What?”

“My mom always says I was born thirty-five years old and that I get more middle-aged every year.” He laughed again, and then he sighed. “Well, someone has to be the adult.”

This clarified things for me. I could see it now… how the irresponsible mother helped explain Beau’s maturity. He’d had to grow up early, to become the caretaker. That’s why he didn’t like being cared for—he felt it was his job.

“You don’t seem much like a junior in high school yourself,” he said, pulling me from my reverie.

I grimaced. For everything I perceived about him, he perceived too much in return. I changed the subject.

“So why did your mother marry Phil?”

He hesitated a minute before answering. “My mother… she’s very young for her age. I think Phil makes her feel even younger. At any rate, she’s crazy about him.” He shook his head indulgently.

“Do you approve?” I wondered.

“Does it matter?” he asked. “I want her to be happy… and he is who she wants.”

The unselfishness of his comment would have shocked me, except that it fit in all too well with what I’d learned of his character.

“That’s very generous… I wonder.”

“What?”

“Would she extend the same courtesy to you, do you think? No matter who your choice was?”

It was a foolish question, and I could not keep my voice casual while I asked it. How stupid to even consider someone approving of _me_ for their son. How stupid to even think of Beau choosing me.

“I-I think so,” he stuttered, reacting in some way to my gaze. Fear… or attraction?

“But she’s the parent, after all. It’s a little bit different,” he finished.

I smiled wryly. “No one too scary then.”

He grinned at me. “What do you mean by scary? Multiple facial piercings and extensive tattoos?”

“That’s one definition, I suppose.” A very nonthreatening definition, to my mind.

“What’s your definition?”

He always asked the wrong questions. Or exactly the right questions, maybe. The ones I didn’t want to answer, at any rate.

“Do you think that _I_ could be scary?” I asked him, trying to smile a little.

He thought it through before answering me in a serious voice. “Hmm… I think you _could_ be, if you wanted to.”

I was serious, too. “Are you frightened of me now?”

He answered at once, not thinking this one through. “No.”

I smiled more easily. I did not think he was entirely telling the truth, nor was he truly lying. He wasn’t frightened enough to leave, at least. I wondered how he would feel if I told him he was having a discussion with a vampire. I cringed internally at his imagined reaction.

“So, now are you going to tell me about your family? It’s got to be a much more interesting story than mine.”

A more frightening one, at least.

“What do you want to know?” I asked cautiously.

“The Cullens adopted you?”

“Yes.”

He hesitated, then spoke in a small voice. “What happened to your parents?”

This wasn’t so hard; I wasn’t even having to lie to him. “They died a very long time ago.”

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled, clearly worried about having hurt me.

 _He_ was worried about _me_.

“I don’t really remember them that clearly,” I assured him. “Carlisle and Esme have been my parents for a long time now.”

“And you love them,” he deduced.

I smiled. “Yes. I couldn’t imagine two better people.”

“You’re very lucky.”

“I know I am.” In that one circumstance, the matter of parents, my luck could not be denied.

“And your brother and sister?”

If I let him push for too many details, I would have to lie. I glanced at the clock, disheartened that my time with him was up.

“My brother and sister, and Jasper and Royal for that matter, are going to be quite upset if they have to stand in the rain waiting for me.”

“Oh, sorry, I guess you have to go.”

He didn’t move. He didn’t want our time to be up, either. I liked that very, very much.

“And you probably want your truck back before Chief Swan gets home, so you don’t have to tell him about the Biology incident.” I grinned at the memory of his embarrassment in my arms.

“I’m sure he’s already heard. There’s no secrets in Forks.” He said it with a resigned sigh.

I laughed at his words. No secrets, indeed. “Have fun at the beach.” I glanced at the pouring rain, knowing it would not last, and wishing more strongly than usual that it could. “Good weather for sunbathing.” Well, it would be by Saturday. He would enjoy that.

“Won’t I see you tomorrow?”

The worry in his tone pleased me.

“No. Emmett and I are starting the weekend early.” I was mad at myself now for having made the plans. I could break them… but there was no such thing as too much hunting at this point, and my family was going to be concerned enough about my behavior without me revealing how obsessive I was turning.

“What are you going to do?” he asked, disappointed with my revelation.

Good.

“We’re going to be hiking in the Goat Rocks Wilderness, just south of Rainier.” Emmett was eager for bear season.

“Oh, well, have fun,” he said halfheartedly. His lack of enthusiasm pleased me again.

As I stared at him, I began to feel almost agonized at the thought of saying even a temporary goodbye. He was just so soft and vulnerable. It seemed foolhardy to let him out of my sight, where anything could happen to him. And yet, the worst things that could happen to him would result from being with me.

“Will you do something for me this weekend?” I asked seriously.

He nodded, his eyes wide and bewildered by my intensity.

Keep it light.

“Don’t be offended, but you seem to be one of those people who just attract accidents like a magnet. So… try not to fall into the ocean or get run over or anything, all right?”

I smiled ruefully at him, hoping he couldn’t see the sadness in my eyes. How much I wished that he wasn’t so much better off away from me, no matter what might happen to him there.

_Run, Beau, run. I love you too much, for your good or mine._

He was offended by my teasing. He narrowed his eyes at me. “I’ll see what I can do,” he said curtly. I smirked as he jumped out into the rain, making a run for the porch.

The piercing stab of his silver eyes still burned in my own.

I curled my hand around the key I’d just picked from his jacket pocket, and smiled as I drove away.


	7. Melody

I had to wait to go back to school. The final hour wasn’t out yet. That was good, because I had things to think about and I needed the time alone.

His scent lingered in the car. I kept the windows up, letting it assault me, trying to get used to the feel of intentionally torching my throat.

Attraction.

It was a problematic thing to contemplate. So many sides to it, so many different meanings and levels. Not the same thing as love, but tied up in it inextricably.

I had no idea if Beau was attracted to me. Would his mental silence somehow continue to get more and more frustrating until I went mad? Or was there a limit that I would eventually reach?

I tried to compare his physical responses to others, like the secretary and Jessica Stanley, but the comparison was inconclusive. The same markers—changes in heart rate and breathing patterns—could just as easily mean fear or shock or anxiety as they did interest. It seemed unlikely that Beau could be entertaining the same kinds of thoughts that others, like Jessica Stanley, used to have. After all, Beau knew very well that there was something wrong with me, even if he didn’t know what exactly it was. He had touched my icy skin, and then yanked his hand away from the chill.

And yet… as I remembered those fantasies that used to repulse me, but remembered them with Beau in place of the others…

I was breathing more quickly, the fire clawing up and down my throat.

What if it had been _Beau_ imagining me with my arms wrapped around his fragile body? Feeling me pull him tightly against my chest and then cupping my hand under his chin? Running my hand through his thick hair? Tracing the shape of his full lips with my fingertips? Leaning my face closer to his, where I could feel the heat of his breath on my mouth? Moving closer still…

But then I flinched away from the daydream, knowing, as I had known when others had imagined these things, what would happen if I got that close to Beau.

Attraction was an impossible dilemma, because I was already too attracted to Beau in the worst way.

Did I want Beau to be attracted to me, a man to a man?

That was the wrong question. The right question was _should_ I want Beau to be attracted to me that way, and that answer was no. Because I was not a human man, and that wasn’t fair to him.

With every fiber of my being, I ached to be a normal man, so that I could hold him in my arms without risking his life. So that I could be free to spin my own fantasies, fantasies that didn’t end with his blood on my hands, his blood glowing in my eyes.

My pursuit of his was indefensible. What kind of relationship could I offer him, when I couldn’t risk touching him?

I hung my head in my hands.

It was all the more confusing because I had never felt so human in my whole life—not even when I _was_ human, as far as I could recall. When I had been human, my thoughts had all been turned to a soldier’s glory. The Great War had raged through most of my adolescence, and I’d been only a few months away from my eighteenth birthday when the influenza had struck… I had just vague impressions of those human years, murky memories that faded more with every passing decade. I remembered my mother most clearly, and felt an ancient ache when I thought of her face. I recalled dimly how much she had hated the future I’d raced eagerly toward, praying every night when she said grace at dinner that the “horrid war” would end… I had no memories of another kind of yearning. Besides my mother’s love, there was no other love that had made me wish to stay…

This was entirely new to me. I had no parallels to draw, no comparisons to make.

The love I felt for Beau had come purely, but now the waters were muddied. I wanted very much to be able to touch him. Did he feel the same way?

That didn’t matter, I tried to convince myself

I stared at my white hands, hating their hardness, their coldness, their inhuman strength…

I jumped when the passenger door opened.

 _Ha. Caught you by surprise. There’s a first_ , Emmett thought as he slid into the seat. “I’ll bet Mrs. Goff thinks you’re on drugs, you’ve been so erratic lately. Where were you today?”

“I was… doing good deeds.”

_Huh?_

I chuckled. “Caring for the sick, that kind of thing.”

That confused him more, but then he inhaled and caught the scent in the car.

“Oh. The boy again?”

I grimaced.

 _This is getting weird_.

“Tell me about it,” I mumbled.

He inhaled again. “Hmm, he does have quite a flavor, doesn’t he?”

The snarl broke through my lips before his words had even registered all the way, an automatic response.

“Easy, kid, I’m just sayin’.”

The others arrived then. Royal noticed the scent all at once and glowered at me, still not over his irritation. I wondered what his problem was, but all I could hear from him were insults.

I didn’t like Jasper’s reaction, either. Like Emmett, he noticed Beau’s appeal. Not that the scent had, for either of them, a thousandth portion of the draw it had for me. It still upset me that his blood was sweet to them. Jasper had poor control…

Alice skipped to my side of the car and held her hand out for Beau’s truck key.

“I only saw that I was,’ she said—obscurely, as was her habit. “You’ll have to tell me the whys.”

“This doesn’t mean—“

“I know, I know. I’ll wait. It won’t be long.”

I sighed and gave her the key.

I followed her to Beau’s house. The rain was pounding like a million tiny hammers, so loud that maybe Beau’s human ears couldn’t hear the thunder of the truck’s engine. I watched his window, but he didn’t come to look out. Maybe he wasn’t there. There were no thoughts to hear.

It made me sad that I couldn’t hear enough to even check on him—to make sure he was happy, or safe, at the least.

Alice climbed in the back and we sped home. The roads were empty, and so it only took a few minutes. We trooped into the house, and then went to our various pastimes.

Emmett and Jasper were in the middle of an elaborate game of chess, utilizing eight joined boards—spread out along the glass back wall—and their own complicated set of rules. They wouldn’t let me play; only Alice would play games with me anymore.

Alice went to her computer just around the corner from them and I could hear her monitors sing to life. Alice was working on a fashion design project for Royal’s wardrobe, but Royal did not join her today, to stand behind her and direct cut and color as Alice traced the stylus over the sensitive screens. Instead, today, Royal sprawled sullenly on the sofa and started flipping through twenty channels a second on the flat screen, never pausing. I could hear him trying to decide whether or not to go out to the garage and tune his BMW again.

Esme was upstairs, humming over a new set of blue prints.

Alice leaned her head around the wall after a moment and started mouthing Emmett’s next moves—Emmett sat on the floor with his back to her—to Jasper, who kept his expression very smooth as he cut off Emmett’s favorite knight.

And I, for the first time in so long that I felt ashamed, went to sit at the exquisite grand piano stationed just off the entryway.

I ran my hand gently up the scales, testing the pitch. The tuning was still perfect.

Upstairs, Esme paused what she was doing and cocked her head to the side.

I began the first line of the tune that had suggested itself to me in the car today, pleased that it sounded even better than I’d imagined.

 _Edward is playing again_ , Esme thought joyously, a smile breaking across her face. She got up from her desk, and flitted silently to the head of the stairs.

I added a harmonizing line, letting the central melody weave through it.

Esme sighed in contentment, sat down on the top step, and leaned her head against the banister. _A new song. It’s been so long. What a lovely tune._

I let the melody lead in a new direction, following it with a bass line.

 _Edward is composing again?_ Royal thought, and his teeth clenched together in fierce resentment.

In that moment, he slipped, and I could read all his underlying outrage. I saw why he was in such a poor temper with me. Why killing Beauregard Swan had not bothered his conscience at all.

With Royal, it was always about vanity.

The music came to an abrupt halt, and I laughed before I could help myself, a sharp bark of amusement that broke off quickly as I threw my hand over my mouth.

Royal turned to glare at me, his eyes sparking with chagrined fury.

Emmett and Jasper turned to stare, too, and I heard Esme’s confusion. Esme was downstairs in a flash, pausing to glance between Royal and me.

“Don’t stop, Edward,” Esme encouraged after a strained moment.

I started playing again, turning my back on Royal while trying very hard to control the grin stretching across my face. He got to his feet and stalked out of the room, more angry than embarrassed. But certainly quite embarrassed.

_If you say anything I will hunt you like a dog._

I smothered another laugh.

“What’s wrong, Roy?” Emmett called after him. Royal didn’t turn. He continued, back ramrod straight, to the garage and then squirmed under his car as if he could bury himself there.

“What’s that about?” Emmett asked me.

“I don’t have the faintest idea,” I lied.

Emmett grumbled, frustrated.

“Keep playing,” Esme urged. My hands had paused again.

I did as she asked, and she came to stand behind me, putting her hands on my shoulders.

The song was compelling, but incomplete. I toyed with a bridge, but it didn’t seem right somehow.

“It’s charming. Does it have a name?” Esme asked.

“Not yet.”

“Is there a story to it?” she asked, a smile in her voice. This gave her very great pleasure, and I felt guilty for having neglected my music for so long. It had been selfish.

“It’s… a lullaby, I suppose.” I got the bridge right then. It led easily to the next movement, taking on a life of its own.

“A lullaby,” she repeated to herself.

There _was_ a story to this melody, and once I saw that, the pieces fell into place effortlessly. The story was a sleeping boy in a narrow bed, dark hair thick and wild and twisted around itself against the pillow…

Alice left Jasper to his own devices and came to sit next to me on the bench. In her trilling, wind chime voice, she sketched out a wordless descant an octave above the melody.

“I like it,” I murmured. “But how about this?”

I added her line to the harmony—my hands were flying across the keys now to work all the pieces together—modifying it a bit, taking it in a new direction…

She caught the mood, and sung along.

“Yes. Perfect,” I said.

Esme squeezed my shoulder.

But I could see the end now, with Alice’s voice rising above the tune and taking it to another place. I could see how the song must end, because the sleeping boy was perfect just the way he was, and any change at all would be wrong, a sadness. The song drifted toward that realization, slower and lower now. Alice’s voice lowered, too, and became solemn, a tone that belonged under the echoing arches of a candlelit cathedral.

I played the last note, and then bowed my head over the keys.

Esme stroked my hair. _It’s going to be fine, Edward. This is going to work out for the best. You deserve happiness, my son. Fate owes you that._

“Thanks,” I whispered, wishing I could believe it.

_Love doesn’t always come in convenient packages._

I laughed once without humor.

_You, out of everyone on this planet, are perhaps best equipped to deal with such a difficult quandary. You are the best and the brightest of us all._

I sighed. Every mother thought the same of her son.

Esme was still full of joy that my heart had finally been touched after all this time, no matter the potential tragedy. She’d worried I would always be alone…

 _He’ll have to love you back,_ she thought suddenly, catching me by surprise with the direction of her thoughts. _If he’s a bright young man._ She smiled. _But I can’t imagine anyone being so slow they wouldn’t see the catch you are._

“Stop it, Mom, you’re making me blush,” I teased. Her words, though improbable, did cheer me.

Alice laughed and picked out the top hand of “Heart and Soul.” I grinned and completed the simple harmony with her. Then I favored her with a performance of “Chopsticks.”

She giggled, then sighed. “So I wish you’d tell me what you were laughing at Roy about,” Alice said. “But I can see that you won’t.”

“Nope.”

She flicked my ear with her finger.

“Be nice, Alice,” Esme chided. “Edward is being a gentleman.”

“But I want to _know_.”

I laughed at the whining tone she put on. Then I said, “Here, Esme,” and began playing her favorite song, an unnamed tribute to the love I’d watched between her and Carlisle for so many years.

“Thank you, dear.” She squeezed my shoulder again.

I didn’t have to concentrate to play the familiar piece. Instead I thought of Royal, still figuratively writhing in mortification in the garage, and I grinned to myself.

Having just discovered the potency of jealousy for myself, I had a small amount of pity for him. It was a wretched way to feel. Of course, his jealousy was a thousand times more petty than mine. Quite the fox in the manger scenario.

I wondered how Royal’s life and personality would have been different if he had not always been the most beautiful. Would he have been a happier person if beauty hadn’t at all times been his strongest selling point? Less egocentric? More compassionate?  Well, I supposed it was useless to wonder, because the past was done, and he always _had_ been the most beautiful. Even when human, he had ever lived in the spotlight of his own attractiveness. Not that he’d minded. The opposite—he’d loved admiration above almost anything else. That hadn’t changed with the loss of his mortality.

It was no surprise then, taking this need as a given, that he’d been offended when I had not, from the beginning, worshipped his beauty the way he expected everyone to worship. Not that he’d wanted _me_ in any way—far from it. But it had aggravated him that I did not want him, despite that. He was used to being wanted.

It was different with Jasper and Carlisle—they were already both in love. I was completely unattached, and yet still remained obstinately unmoved.

I’d thought that old resentment was buried. That he was long passed it.

And he had been… until the day that I finally found someone whose beauty touched me the way his had not.

Royal had relied on the belief that if I did not find _his_ beauty worth worshipping, then certainly there was no beauty on earth that could reach me. He’d been furious since the moment I’d saved Beau’s life, guessing, with his shrewd intuition, the interest that I was all but unconscious of myself.

Royal was mortally offended that I found some insignificant human boy more appealing than him.

I suppressed the urge to laugh again.

It bothered me some, though, the way he saw Beau. Royal actually thought the boy was _plain_. How could he believe that? It seemed incomprehensible to me. A product of the jealousy, no doubt.

“Oh!” Alice said abruptly. “Jasper, guess what?”

I saw what she’d just seen, and my hands froze on the keys.

“What, Alice?” Jasper asked.

“Peter and Charlotte are coming to visit next week! They’re going to be in the neighborhood, isn’t that nice?”

“What’s wrong, Edward?” Esme asked, feeling the tension in my shoulders.

“Peter and Charlotte are coming to _Forks_?” I hissed at Alice.

She rolled her eyes at me. “Calm down, Edward. It’s not their first visit.”

My teeth clenched together. It _was_ their first visit since Beau had arrived, and his sweet blood didn’t appeal just to me.

Alice frowned at my expression. “They never hunt here. You know that.”

But Jasper’s brother of sorts and the little vampire he loved were not like us; they hunted the usual way. They could not be trusted around Beau.

“When?” I demanded.

She pursed her lips unhappily, but told me what I needed to know. _Monday morning. No one is going to hurt Beau._

“No,” I agreed, and then turned away from her. “You ready, Emmett?”

“I thought we were leaving in the morning?”

“We’re coming back by midnight Sunday. I guess it’s up to you when you want to leave.”

“Okay, fine. Let me say goodbye to Roy first.”

“Sure.” With the mood Royal was in, it would be a short goodbye.

 _You really have lost it, Edward_ , he thought as he headed toward the back door.

“I suppose I have.”

“Play the new song for me, one more time,” Esme asked.

“If you’d like that,” I agreed, though I was a little hesitant to follow the tune to its unavoidable end—the end that had set me aching in unfamiliar ways. I thought for a moment, and then pulled the bottle cap from my pocket and set it on the empty music stand. That helped a bit—my little memento of his _yes_.

I nodded to myself, and started playing.

Esme and Alice exchanged a glance, but neither one asked.

 

 

“Hasn’t anyone ever told you not to play with your food?” I called to Emmett.

“Oh, hey Edward!” he shouted back, grinning and waving at me. The bear took advantage of his distraction to rake its heavy paw across Emmett’s chest. The sharp claws shredded through his shirt, and squealed across his skin.

The bear bellowed at the high-pitched noise.

_Aw, hell, Roy gave me this shirt!_

Emmett roared back at the enraged animal.

I sighed and sat down on a convenient boulder. This might take awhile.

But Emmett was almost done. He let the bear try to take his head off with another swipe of the paw, laughing as the blow bounced off and sent the bear staggering back. The bear roared and Emmett roared again through his laughter. Then he launched himself at the animal, who stood a head taller than him on its hind legs, and their bodies fell to the ground tangled up together, taking a mature spruce tree down with them. The bear’s growls cut off with a gurgle.

A few minutes later, Emmett jogged over to where I was waiting for him. His shirt was destroyed, torn and bloodied, sticky with sap and covered in fur. His dark curly hair wasn’t in much better shape. He had a huge grin on his face.

“That was a strong one. I could almost feel it when he clawed me.”

“You’re such a child, Emmett.”

He eyed my smooth, clean white button-down. “Weren’t you able to track down the mountain lion, then?”

“Of course I was. I just don’t eat like a savage.”

Emmett laughed his booming laugh. “I wish they were stronger. It would be more fun.”

“No one said you had to fight with your food.”

“Yeah, but who else am I going to fight with? You and Alice cheat, Esme gets mad if Jasper and I _really_ go at it, and Roy and I never manage to stay focused on fighting.” He grinned to himself widely.

I rolled my eyes and ignored his thoughts. “Life is hard all around, isn’t it?”

Emmett grinned at me now, shifting his weight a bit so that he was suddenly poised to take a charge.

“C’mon Edward. Just turn it off for one minute and fight fair.”

“It doesn’t turn off,” I reminded him.

“Wonder what the human kid does to keep you out?” Emmett mused. “Maybe he could give me some pointers.”

My good humor vanished. “Stay away from him,” I growled through my teeth.

“Touchy, touchy.”

I sighed. Emmett came to sit beside me on the rock.

“Sorry. I know you’re going through a tough spot. I really am trying to not be _too_ much of an insensitive jerk, but, since that’s sort of my natural state…”

He waited for me to laugh at his joke, and then made a face.

_So serious all the time. What’s bugging you now?_

“Thinking about him. Well, worrying, really?”

“What’s there to worry about? _You_ are _here_.” He laughed loudly.

I ignored his joke again, but answered his question. “Have you ever thought about how fragile they all are? How many bad things there are that can happen to a mortal?”

“Not really. I guess I see what you mean, though. I wasn’t much match for a bear the first time around, was I?”

“Bears,” I muttered, adding a new fear to the pile. “That would be just his luck, wouldn’t it? Stray bear in town. Of course it would head straight for Beau.”

Emmett chuckled. “You sound like a crazy person, do you know that?”

“Just imagine for one minute that Royal was human, Emmett. And he could run into a bear… or get hit by a car… or _lightning_ … or fall down stairs… or get sick—get a _disease_!” The words burst from me stormily. It was a relief to let them out—they’d been festering inside me all weekend. “Fires and earthquakes and tornados! Ugh! When’s the last time you watched the news? Have you _seen_ the kinds of things that happen to them? Burglaries and homicides…” Me teeth clenched together, and I was abruptly so infuriated by the idea of another _human_ hurting him that I couldn’t breathe.

“Whoa, whoa! Hold up, there, kid. He lives in Forks, remember? So he gets rained on.” He shrugged.

“I think he has some substantial bad luck, Emmett, I really do. Look at the evidence. Of all the places in the world he could go, he ends up in a town where _vampires_ make up a significant portion of the population.”

“Yeah, but we’re vegetarians. So isn’t that good luck, not bad?”

“With the way he smells? Definitely bad. And then, more bad luck, the way he smells to _me_.” I glowered at my hands, hating them again.

“Except that you have more self-control than just about anyone but Carlisle. Good luck again.”

“The van?”

“That was just an accident.”

“You should have seen it coming for him, Em, again and again. I swear, it was like he had some kind of magnetic pull.”

“But you were there. That was good luck.”

“Was it? Isn’t it the worst luck any human could ever possibly have—to have a _vampire_ fall in _love_ with them?”

Emmett considered that quietly for a moment. He pictured the boy in his head, and found the image largely uninteresting. _Honestly, I can’t really see the draw._

“Well, I can’t really see Royal’s allure, either,” I said rudely. “ _Honestly_ , he seems like more work than any pretty face is worth.”

Emmett chuckled. “I don’t suppose you’d tell me…”

“I don’t know what his problem is, Emmett,” I lied with a sudden, wide grin.

I saw his intent in time to brace myself. He tried to shove me off the rock, and there was a loud cracking sound as a fissure opened in the stone between us.

“Cheater,” he muttered.

I waited for him to try another time, but his thoughts took a different direction. He was picturing Beau’s face again, but imagining it whiter, imagining his eyes bright red…

“No,” I said, my voice strangled.

“It solves your worries about mortality, doesn’t it? And then you wouldn’t want to kill him, either. Isn’t that the best way?”

“For me? Or for him?”

“For you,” he answered easily. His tone added the _of course_.

I laughed humorlessly. “Wrong answer.”

“I didn’t mind so much,” he reminded me.

“Royal did.”

He sighed. We both knew that Royal would do anything, give up anything, if it meant he could be human again.

“Yeah, Roy did,” he acquiesced quietly.

“I can’t… I shouldn’t… I’m _not_ going to ruin Beau’s life. Wouldn’t you feel the same if it were Royal?”

Emmett thought about that for a moment. “You really… love him?”

“I can’t even describe it, Emmett. All of a sudden, he’s the whole world to me. I don’t see the _point_ of the rest of the world without him anymore.”

_But you won’t change him? He won’t last forever, Edward._

“I know that,” I groaned.

_And, as you’ve pointed out, he’s sort of breakable._

“Trust me—that I know, too.”

Emmett was not a tactful person, and delicate discussions were not his forte. He struggled now, wanting very much not to be offensive. He spoke aloud, rather than risk thinking the wrong words.

“Can you even touch him? I mean, if you _love_ him… wouldn’t you want to, well, _touch_ him…?”

Emmett and Royal shared an intensely physical love. While he understood that one _could_ love without that aspect, he was acutely aware of how it certainly _added_ to a relationship.

I sighed. “I can’t even think of that, Emmett.”

“I know it can’t be easy, but Taras and Ivan do it all the time.” He shrugged.

Taras and Ivan greatly enjoyed their physical dalliances with human men. I knew it was possible—they could recall a mountain of memories as proof—but how could I share any sort of intimacy with Beau, any closeness with him, when he was already so fragile? And when his scent was so intoxicating to me? So tempting?

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. “I don’t think it would be possible, Emmett, I really don’t.”

_Wow. So what are your options, then?_

“I don’t know,” I whispered. “I’m trying to figure out a way to… to leave him. I just can’t fathom how to make myself stay away…”

With a deep sense of gratification, I suddenly realized that it was _right_ for me to stay—at least for now, with Peter and Charlotte on their way. Beau was safer with me here, temporarily, than he would be if I were gone. For the moment, I could be his unlikely protector.

The thought made me anxious; I itched to be back so that I could fill that role for as long as possible.

Emmett noticed the change in my expression. _What are you thinking about?_

“Right now,” I admitted a bit sheepishly, “I’m dying to run back to Forks and check on him. I don’t know if I’ll make it till Sunday night.”

“Oh, hell no! You are _not_ going home early. Let Royal cool down a little bit. Please! For my sake.”

“I’ll try to stay,” I said doubtfully.

Emmett tapped the phone in my pocket. “Alice would call if there were any basis for your panic attack. She’s as weird about this kid as you are.”

I grimaced at that. “Fine. But I’m not staying past Sunday.”

“There’s no point in hurrying back—it’s going to be sunny, anyway. Alice said we were free from school until Wednesday.”

I shook my head rigidly.

“Peter and Charlotte know how to behave themselves.”

“I really don’t care, Emmett. With Beau’s luck, he’ll go wondering off into the woods at exactly the wrong moment and—“ I flinched. “Peter isn’t known for his self-control. I’m going back Sunday.”

Emmett sighed. _Exactly like a crazy person._

 

 

Beau was sleeping peacefully when I climbed up to his bedroom window early Monday morning. I’d remembered oil this time, and the window now moved silently out of my way.

I could tell by the way his hair was still relatively untangled that he’d had a less restless night than the last time I was here. He lay peacefully on his back, his arms stretched out above his head, and his mouth was slightly open. I could hear his breath moving slowly in and out between his lips.

It was an amazing relief to be here, to be able to see him again. I realized that I wasn’t truly at ease unless that was the case. Nothing was right when I was away from him.

Not that all was right when I was with him, either, though. I sighed, letting the thirst fire rake through my throat. I’d been away from it too long. The time spent without pain and temptation made it all the more forceful now. It was bad enough that I was afraid to go kneel beside his bed so that I could read the titles of his book. I wanted to know the stories in his head, but I was afraid of more than my thirst, afraid that if I let myself get that close to him, I would want to be closer still…

His lips looked very soft and warm. I could imagine touching them with the tip of my finger. Just lightly…

That was exactly the kind of mistake that I had to avoid.

My eyes ran over his face again and again, examining it for changes. Mortals changed all the time—I was sad at the thought of missing anything…

I thought he looked… tired. Like he hadn’t gotten much sleep this weekend. Had he gone out?

I laughed silently and wryly at how much that upset me. So what if he had? I didn’t own him. He wasn’t mine.

No, he wasn’t mine—and I was sad again.

One of his hands twitched, and I noticed that there were shallow, barely healed scrapes across the heel of his palm. He’d been hurt? Even though it was obviously not a serious injury, it still disturbed me. I considered the location, and decided he must have tripped. That seemed a reasonable explanation, all things considered.

It was comforting to think that I wouldn’t have to puzzle over either of these small mysteries forever. We were _friends_ now—or, at least, trying to be friends. I could ask him about his weekend—about the beach, and whatever late night activity had made him look so weary. I could ask what had happened to his hands. And I could laugh a little when he confirmed my theory about them.

I smiled gently as I wondered whether or not he _had_ fallen into the ocean. I wondered if he’d had a pleasant time on the outing. I wondered if he’d thought about me at all. If he’d missed me even the tiniest portion of the amount that I’d missed him.

I tried to picture him in the sun on the beach. The picture was incomplete, though, because I’d never been to First Beach myself. I only knew how it looked in pictures…

I felt a tiny qualm of unease as I thought about the reason why I’d never once been to the pretty beach located just a few minutes run from my home. Beau had spent the day at La Push—a place where I was forbidden, by treaty, to go. A place where a few old men still remembered the stories about the Cullens, remembered and believed them. A place where our secret was known…

I shook my head. I had nothing to worry about there. The Quileutes were bound by treaty, too. Even if Beau had run into one of those aging sages, they could reveal nothing. And why would the subject ever be broached? Why would Beau think to voice his curiosity there? No—the Quileutes were perhaps the _one_ thing I did not have to worry about.

I was angry with the sun when it began to rise. It reminded me that I could not satisfy my curiosity for days to come. Why did it choose to shine now?

With a sigh, I ducked out his window before it was light enough for anyone to see me here. I meant to stay in the thick forest by his house to see him off to school, but when I got into the trees, I was surprised to find the trace of his scent lingering on the trail there.

I followed it quickly, curiously, becoming more and more worried as it led deeper into the darkness. What had Beau been doing out _here_?

The trail stopped abruptly, in the middle of nowhere in particular. He’d gone just a few steps off the trail, into the ferns, where he’d touched the trunk of a fallen tree. Perhaps sat there…

I sat where he had, and looked around. All he would have been able to see was ferns and forests. It had probably been raining—the scent was washed out, having never set deeply into the tree.

Why would Beau have come to sit here alone—and he had been alone, no doubt about that—in the middle of the wet, murky forest?

It made no sense, and, unlike those other points of curiosity, I could hardly bring this up in casual conversation.

 _So, Beau, I was following your scent through the woods after I left your room where I’d been watching you sleep_ … Yes, that would be quite the ice breaker.

I would never know what he’d been thinking and doing here, and that had my teeth grinding together in frustration. Worse, this was far too much like the scenario I’d imagined for Emmett—Beau wandering alone in the woods, where his scent would call to anyone who had the senses to track it…

I groaned. Not only did he have bad luck, but he courted it.

Well, for this moment, he had a protector. I would watch over him, keep him from harm, for as long as I could justify it.

I suddenly found myself wishing that Peter and Charlotte would make an extended stay.


	8. Ghost

I did not see much of Jasper’s guests for the two sunny days that they were in Forks. I only went home at all so Esme wouldn’t worry. Otherwise, my existence seemed like more of a specter than a vampire. I hovered, invisible in the shadows, where I could follow the object of my love and obsession—where I could see him and hear him in the minds of the lucky humans who could walk through the sunlight beside him, sometimes accidentally brushing the back of his hand with their own. He never reacted to such contact; their hands were just as warm as his.

The enforced absence from school had never been a trial like this before. But the sun seemed to make him happy, so I could not resent it too much. Anything that pleased him was in my good graces.

Monday morning, I eavesdropped on a conversation that had the potential to destroy my confidence and make the time spent away from him a torture. As it ended up, though, it rather made my day.

I had to feel some little respect for Mike Newton; he had not simply given up and slunk away to nurse his wounds. He had more bravery than I’d given him credit for. He was going to try again.

Beau got to school quite early and, seeming intent on enjoying the sun while it lasted, sat at one of the seldom used picnic benches while he waited for the first bell to ring. His hair caught the sun in unexpected ways, giving off a reddish shine that I had not anticipated.

Mike found him there, doodling again, and was thrilled at his good luck.

It was agonizing to only be able to watch, powerless, bound to the forest’s shadows by the bright sunlight.

Beau greeted him with enough enthusiasm to make Mike ecstatic, and me the opposite.

_He likes me. Beau wouldn’t smile like that if he didn’t. I bet he wanted to go to the dance with me. Wonder what’s so important in Seattle…_

Mike perceived the change in Beau’s hair. “I never noticed before—your hair has red in it.”

I accidentally uprooted the young spruce tree my hand was resting on when he pinched a strand of Beau’s hair between his fingers.

“Only in the sun,” Beau said. To my deep satisfaction, he cringed away from Mike slightly when he ran his hands through Beau’s hair.

I briefly considered the ramifications of ripping Mike’s hand off his arm.

It took Mike a minute to build up his courage, wasting some time on small talk.

Beau reminded him of the essay we all had due on Wednesday. From the faintly smug expression on Beau’s face, his was already done. Mike had forgotten altogether, and that severely diminished his free time.

_Dang—stupid essay._

Finally he got to the point—my teeth were clenched so hard they could have pulverized granite—and even then, he couldn’t make himself ask the question outright.

“I was going to ask if you wanted to go out.”

“Oh,” Beau said.

There was a brief silence.

_Oh? What does that mean? Is he going to say yes? Wait—I guess I didn’t really ask._

He swallowed hard.

“Well, we could go get dinner or something… and I could work on it later.”

_Stupid—that wasn’t a question, either._

“Mike…”

The agony and fury of my jealousy was every bit as powerful as it had been last week. I broke another tree trying to hold myself there. I wanted so badly to race across the campus, too fast for human eyes, and snatch Beau up—to steal him away from the boy that I hated so much in this moment I could have killed him and enjoyed it.

Would Beau say yes to him?

“I don’t… Maybe that’s not the best idea.”

I breathed again. My rigid body relaxed.

_Seattle was just an excuse, after all. Shouldn’t have asked. What was I thinking? Bet it’s that freak, Cullen…_

“Why?” he asked sullenly.

“I think…” he hesitated. “Well, here’s the thing…” Another hesitation, and he sighed. “Mike, do you like Jessica?”

“Jessica?” _What about her…?_

I tried to deduce Beau’s intentions, myself. Feeling almost as bewildered as Mike. Was this a way to throw Mike off?

“Yes, Jessica.” Beau repeated. “Do you like her?”

“Well…” Mike hesitated. _Jessica’s pretty. She’s cool, too. But if I say yes… well… huh._ “Yeah. I guess I do.”

“Mike,” Beau began softly, “Jessica really like you. And she’s one of my best friends and I don’t want to hurt her feelings.” He spoke slowly and emphatically, trying to gently impart the meanings of his words to the thick-headed boy in front of him.

“But—“ Mike began, his face crimson.

“And I think, Mike,” Beau interrupted, “that when you’re asking to hang out with me it’s in a more-than-friends way.”

_Damn. I… Damn… Wow…_

Mike was beyond words at this point. Just incoherent thoughts. The thoughts were incoherent, but tone behind them was deep and serious.

Beau took a deep breath and gently continued. “So, I think it’d be best if we didn’t get dinner. Okay?”

 _Jessica. Huh. Wow. Huh_.  “Oh,” he managed to say.

Beau used this confusion to make his exit.

“It’s time for class, and I can’t be late again.”

Beau gathered his books, and went to leave. Mike stayed where he was, clearly floored by the revelations this conversation had caused in his mind.

“Hey…” Beau gently patted his hunched shoulder. “You coming?”

Mike followed him towards building three, lost deep in his own thoughts. He found, as he turned the idea of Jessica around and around in his head, that he rather liked the thought of her finding him attractive. He still found Beau attractive, but he could admit he found them both appealing in different ways. As this realization dawned on him, his thoughts become lighter, almost relieved, like he had finally realized something about himself. When it was time for them to part, he stopped and turned to Beau. He smiled, somewhat.

“Thanks, Beau.”

I found myself marveling, once again, at the compassion and selflessness Beau possessed. The maturity with which he carried himself, and the intelligence with which he articulated his secret thoughts. He was a wonder. A beautiful creature that I had no right to love.

When he was out of sight, I curled up against the cool trunk of an enormous madrone tree and I danced from mind to mind, keeping him in sight, always glad when Angela Weber was available to look through. I wished there was some way to thank the Weber girl for simply being a nice person. It made me feel better to think that Beau had such a kind friend in his life.

I watched Beau’s face from whichever angle I was given, and I could see that he was sad again. This surprised me—I thought the sun would be enough to keep him smiling. At lunch, I saw him glance time and time again toward the empty Cullen table, and that thrilled me. It gave me hope. Perhaps he missed me, too.

He had plans to go out with a few of his girl-friends—I automatically planned my own surveillance—but these plans were postponed when Mike invited Jessica out for dinner that night.

So I went straight to his home instead, doing a quick sweep of the woods to make sure no one dangerous had wandered too close. I knew Jasper had warned his one-time brother to avoid the town—citing my insanity as both an explanation and warning—but I wasn’t taking any chances. Peter and Charlotte had no intention of causing animosity with my family, but intentions were changeable things…

All right, I was overdoing it. I knew that.

As if he knew I was watching, as if he took pity on the agony I felt when I couldn’t see him, Beau came out to the backyard after a long hour indoors. He had a book in his hand and a blanket under his arm.

Silently, I climbed into the higher branches of the closest tree overlooking the yard.

He spread the blanket on the damp grass and then lay on his stomach and started flipping through the worn book, as if trying to find his place. I read over his shoulder.

Ah—more classics. He was an Austen fan.

He read quickly, crossing and recrossing his ankles in the air. I was watching the sunlight and the wind play in his hair when his body suddenly stiffened, and his hand froze on the page. All I saw was that he’d reached chapter three when he roughly grabbed a thick section of pages and shoved them over.

I caught a glance of the title page, _Mansfield Park_. He was starting a new story—the book was a compilation of novels. I wondered why he’d switched stories so abruptly.

Just a few moments later, he quickly closed the book. With a deep sigh, he set the book aside and flipped over onto his back. He took a deep breath, as if to calm himself, pushed his sleeves up and closed his eyes. I remembered the novel, but I couldn’t think of anything in it to upset him. Another mystery. I sighed.

He lay very still, seeming to concentrate on every breath.

His breathing slowed. After several long minutes his lips began to tremble. Mumbling in his sleep.

Impossible to resist. I listened as far out as I could, catching voices in the houses nearby.

_Two tablespoons of flour… one cup of milk…_

_C’mon! Get it through the hoop! Aw, c’mon!_

_Red, or blue… or maybe I should wear something more casual…_

There was no one close by. I jumped to the ground, landing silently on my toes.

This was very wrong, very risky. How condescendingly I’d once judged Emmett for his thoughtless ways and Jasper for his lack of discipline—and now I was consciously flouting all the rules with a wild abandon that made their lapses look like nothing at all. I used to be the responsible one.

I sighed, but crept out into the sunshine, regardless.

I avoided looking at myself in the sun’s glare. It was bad enough that my skin was stone and inhuman in shadow; I didn’t want to look at Beau and myself side by side in the sunlight. The difference between us was already insurmountable, painful enough without this image also in my head.

But I couldn’t ignore the fiery prisms that reflected onto his skin when I got closer. My jaw locked at the sight. Could I be any more of a freak? I imagined his terror if he opened his eyes now…

I started to retreat, but he mumbled again, holding me there.

“Mmm… Mmm.”

Nothing intelligible. Well, I would wait for a bit.

I carefully stole his book, stretching my arm out and holding my breath while I was close, just in case. I started breathing again when I was a few yards away, tasting the way the sunshine and open air affected his scent. The heat seemed to sweeten the smell. My throat flamed with desire, the fire fresh and fierce again because I had been away from him for too long.

I spent a moment controlling that, and then—forcing myself to breathe through my nose—I let his book fall open in my hands. He’d started with the first book… I flipped through the pages quickly to the third chapter of _Sense and Sensibility_ , searching for something potentially offensive in Austen’s overly polite prose.

When my eyes stopped automatically at my name—the character Edward Ferrars being introduced for the first time—Beau spoke again.

“Mmm. Edward.” He sighed.

This time I did not fear that he had awoken. His voice was just a low, wistful murmur. Not the scream of fear it would have been if he’d seen me now.

Joy warred with self-loathing. He was still dreaming of me, at least.

“Edmund. Ahh. Too… close…”

Edmund?

Ha! He wasn’t dreaming of me at all, I realized blackly. The self-loathing returned in force. He was dreaming of fictional characters. So much for my conceit.

I replaced his book, and stole back into the cover of the shadows—where I belonged.

The afternoon passed and I watched, feeling helpless again, as the sun slowly sank in the sky and the shadows sprawled across the lawn toward him. I wanted to push them back, but the darkness was inevitable; the shadows took him. When the light was gone, his skin looked too pale—ghostly. His hair was dark again, almost black against his face.

It was a frightening thing to watch—like witnessing Alice’s vision come to fruition. Beau’s steady, strong heartbeat was the only reassurance, the sound that kept this moment from feeling like a nightmare.

I was relieved when his father arrived home.

I could hear little from Charlie Swan as he drove down the street toward the house. Some vague annoyance… in the past, something from his day at work. Expectation mixed with hunger—I guessed that he was looking forward to dinner. But his thoughts were so quiet and contained that I could not be sure I was right; I only got the gist of them.

I wondered what Beau’s mother sounded like—what the genetic combination had been that had formed him so uniquely.

Beau started awake, jerking up to a sitting position when the tires of his father’s car hit the brick driveway. He stared around himself, seeming confused by the unexpected darkness. For one brief moment, his eyes touched the shadows where I hid, but they flickered quickly away.

“Charlie?” he asked in a low voice, still peering into the trees surrounding the small yard.

The door of the cruiser slammed shut, and Beau looked to the sound. He got to his feet quickly and gathered his things, casting one more look back toward the woods.

I moved into a tree closer to the back window near the small kitchen, and listened to their evening. It was interesting to compare Charlie’s words to his muffled thoughts. His love and concern for his only son were nearly overwhelming, and yet his words were always short and casual. Most of the time, they sat in companionable silence.

I heard Beau discuss his plans for the following evening in Port Angeles, and I refined my own plans as I listened. Jasper had not warned Peter and Charlotte to stay clear of Port Angeles. Though I knew that they had fed recently and had no intention of hunting anywhere in the vicinity of our home, I would watch him, just in case. After all, there were always others of my kind out there. And then, all those human dangers that I had never much considered before now.

I heard Beau worry aloud about leaving his father to prepare dinner alone, and smiled at this proof to my theory—yes, he was a care-taker.

And then I left, knowing I would return when he was asleep.

I would not trespass on his privacy the way a peeping tom would have. I was here for his protection, not to leer at him the way Mike Newton no doubt would, were he agile enough to move through the treetops the way I could. I would not treat Beau so crassly.

My house was empty when I returned, which was fine by me. I didn’t miss the confused or disparaging thoughts, questioning my sanity. Emmett had left a note stuck to the newel post.

_Football at the Ranier field—c’mon! Please?_

I found a pen and scrawled the word _sorry_ beneath his plea. The teams were even without me, in any case.

I went for the shortest of hunting trips, contenting myself with the smaller, gentler creatures that did not taste as good as the hunters, and then changed into fresh clothes before I ran back to Forks.

Beau did not sleep well tonight. He thrashed in his blankets, his face sometimes worried, sometimes sad. I wondered what nightmares haunted him… and then realized that perhaps I really didn’t want to know.

When he spoke, he mostly muttered about Forks in a glum voice. Only once, when he sighed out the words “Come back” and his hand twitched open—a wordless plea—did I have a chance to hope he might be dreaming of me.

The next day of school, the _last_ day the sun would hold me prisoner, was much the same as the day before. Beau seemed even gloomier than yesterday, and I wondered if he would bow out of his plans—he didn’t seem in the mood.

But, being Beau, he would probably put his friends’ enjoyment above that of his own.

He wore a dark blue, deep-V necked shirt today, and the color set his skin off perfectly, making it look like fresh cream.

School ended, and Jessica agreed to pick the everyone up—Angela was going, too, for which I was grateful.

I went home to get my car. When I found that Peter and Charlotte were there, I decided I could afford to give Beau and his friends an hour or so head start. I would never be able to bear following behind them, driving at the speed limit—hideous thought.

I came in through the kitchen, nodding vaguely at Emmett’s and Esme’s greetings as I passed by everyone in the front room and went straight to the piano.

 _Ugh, he’s back_. Royal, of course.

 _Ah, Edward. I hate to see him suffering so._ Esme’s joy was becoming marred by concern. She _should_ be concerned. This love story she envisioned for me was careening toward a tragedy more perceptibly every moment.

 _Have fun in Port Angeles tonight,_ Alice thought cheerfully. _Let me know when I’m allowed to talk to Beau._

 _You’re pathetic. I can’t believe you missed the game last night just to watch somebody sleep,_ Emmett grumbled.

Jasper paid me no mind, even when the song I played came out a little more stormily than I’d intended. It was an old song, with a familiar theme: impatience. Jasper was saying goodbye to his friends, who eyed me curiously.

 _What a strange creature_ , The Alice-sized white-blonde Charlotte was thinking. _And he was so normal and pleasant the last time we met._

Peter’s thoughts were in sync with hers, as was usually the case.

 _It must be the animals. The lack of human blood drives them mad eventually_ , he was concluding. His hair was just as fair as hers, and almost as long. They were very similar—except for size, as he was almost as tall as Jasper—in both look and thought. A well matched pair, I’d always thought.

Everyone but Esme stopped thinking about me after a moment, and I played in more subdued tones so that I would not attract notice.

I did not pay attention to them for a long while, just letting the music distract me from my unease. It was hard to have Beau out of sight and mind. I only returned my attention to their conversation when the goodbyes grew more final.

“If you see Maria again,” Jasper was saying, a little warily, “tell her that I wish her well.”

Maria was the vampire who had created both Jasper and Peter—Jasper in the latter half of the nineteenth century, Peter more recently, in the nineteen forties. She’d looked Jasper up once when we were in Calgary. It had been an eventful visit—we’d had to move immediately. Jasper had politely asked her to keep her distance in the future.

“I don’t imagine that will happen soon,” Peter said with a laugh—Maria was undeniably dangerous and there was not much love lost between her and Peter. Peter had, after all, been instrumental in Jasper’s defection. Jasper had always been Maria’s favorite; she considered it a minor detail that she had once planned to kill him. “But, should it happen, I certainly will.”

They were shaking hands then, preparing to depart. I let the song I was playing trail off to an unsatisfying end, and got hastily to my feet.

“Charlotte, Peter,” I said, nodding.

“It was nice to see you again, Edward,” Charlotte said doubtfully. Peter just nodded in return.

 _Madman,_ Emmett threw after me.

 _Idiot_ , Royal thought at the same time.

 _Poor boy_. Esme.

And Alice, in a chiding tone. _They’re going straight east, to Seattle. Nowhere near Port Angeles_. She showed me the proof in her visions.

I pretended I hadn’t heard that. My excuses were already flimsy enough.

Once in my car, I felt more relaxed; the robust purr of the engine Royal had boosted for me—last year, when he was in a better mood—was soothing. It was a relief to be in motion, to know that I was getting closer to Beau with every mile that flew away under my tires.


	9. Port Angeles

It was too bright for me to drive into town when I got to Port Angeles; the sun was still too high overhead, and, though my windows were tinted dark, there was no reason take unnecessary risks. _More_ unnecessary risks, I should say.

I was certain I would be able to find Jessica’s thoughts from a distance—Jessica’s thoughts were louder than Angela’s, but once I found the first, I’d be able to hear the second. Then, when the shadows lengthened, I could get closer. For now, I pulled off the road onto an overgrown driveway just outside the town that appeared to be infrequently used.

I knew the general direction to search in—there was really only one place for dress shopping in Port Angeles. It wasn’t long before I found Jessica, spinning in front of a three-way mirror, and I could see Beau in her peripheral vision, appraising the long black dress she wore.

_Beau still looks pissed. Maybe I shouldn’t of told him about Tyler. But at least he’d have someone to go with to Prom. That’s not so bad, right? But I guess I see his point, I mean, Tyler is totally not into boys… probably. Maybe. God, I don’t even know. Since when did boys get so complicated?_

_“I think I like the blue one better. It really brings out your eyes.”_ Beau said.

Jessica smiled at him mischievously.

 _“And the girls.”_ Jessica swayed her body suggestively at Beau. I quickly tried to block out her thoughts and searched close by for Angela—ah, but Angela was in the process of changing dresses, and I skipped quickly out of her head to give her some privacy.

Well, there wasn’t much trouble Beau could get into in a department store. I’d let them shop and then catch up with them when they were done. It wouldn’t be long until it was dark—the clouds were beginning to return, drifting in from the west. I could only catch glimpses of them though the thick trees, but I could see how they would hurry the sunset. I welcomed them, craved them more than I had ever yearned for their shadows before. Tomorrow I could sit beside Beau in school again, monopolizing his attention at lunch again. I could ask him all the questions I’d been saving up…

So, he was upset about Tyler’s presumption. I’d seen in Tyler Crowley’s head—that he’d meant it literally when he’d spoken of the prom, that he was staking a claim. I pictured Beau’s expression from that other afternoon—the outraged disbelief—and I laughed. I wondered what he would say to Tyler about this. I wouldn’t want to miss his reaction.

The time went slowly while I waited for the shadows to lengthen. I checked in periodically with Jessica; her mental voice was the easiest to find, but I didn’t like to linger there long—too much rambling. I saw the place they were planning to eat. It would be dark by dinner time… maybe I would coincidentally choose the same restaurant. I touched the phone in my pocket, thinking of inviting Alice out to eat… She would love that, but she would also want to talk to Beau. I wasn’t sure if I was ready to have Beau _more_ involved with my world. Wasn’t one vampire trouble enough?

I checked in routinely with Jessica again. She was thinking about her jewelry, asking Angela’s opinion.

_“Maybe I should take the necklace back. I’ve got one at home that would probably work, and I spent more than I was supposed to…” My mom is going to freak out. What was I thinking? I should have asked Beau’s opinion first._

_“I don’t mind going back to the store. Do you think Beau will be looking for us, though?”_

What was this? Beau wasn’t with them? I stared through Jessica’s eyes first, then switched to Angela’s. They were on the sidewalk in front of a line of shops, just turning back the way. Beau was nowhere in sight.

 _Oh, I didn’t think about that._ Jessica thought, worry tinging her thoughts. _“I think so. We’ll get to the restaurant in plenty of time, even if we go back. And besides, I think Beau wanted to be alone… I want to make sure we give him his time, I mean he was so sweet to come with us and help us with our dresses.”_ I got a brief glimpse of the bookshop Jessica thought Beau had gone to.

 _“You’re right. Let’s hurry, then.”_ Angela said. _I hope Beau doesn’t think we ditched him. He was so nice to me in the car before… He’s really a sweet person. But he’s seemed kind of blue all day. I wonder if it’s because of Edward Cullen? I’ll bet that was why he was asking about his family…_

I should have been paying better attention. What all had I missed here? Beau was off wondering by himself, and he’d been asking about me before? Angela was paying attention to Jessica now—Jessica was babbling about that idiot Mike—and I could get nothing more from them.

I judged the shadows. The sun would be behind the clouds soon enough. If I stayed on the west side of the road, where the buildings would shade the street from the fading light…

I started to feel anxious as I drove through the sparse traffic in the center of the town. This wasn’t something I had considered—Beau taking off on his own—and I had no idea how to find him. I _should_ have considered it.

I knew Port Angeles well; I drove straight to the bookstore in Jessica’s head, hoping my search would be short, but doubting it would be so easy. When did Beau ever make it easy?

Sure enough, the little shop was empty except for the anachronistically dressed woman behind the counter. This didn’t look like the kind of place Beau would be interested in—too new age for a practical person. I wondered if he’d even bothered to go in?

There was a patch of shade I could park in… It made a dark pathway right up to the overhang of the shop. I really shouldn’t. Wandering around in the sunlight hours was not safe. What if a passing car threw the sun’s reflection into the shade at just the wrong moment?

But I didn’t know how else to look for Beau!

I parked and got out, keeping to the deepest side of the shadow. I strode quickly into the store, noting the faint trace of Beau’s scent in the air. He had been here, on the sidewalk, but there was no hint of his fragrance inside the shop.

“Welcome! Can I help—“ the saleswoman began to say, but I was already out the door.

I followed Beau’s scent as far as the shade would allow, stopping when I got to the far edge of the sunlight.

How powerless it made me feel—fenced in by the line between dark and light that stretched across the sidewalk in front of me. So limited.

I could only guess that he’d continued across the street, heading south. There wasn’t really much in that direction. Was he lost? Well, that possibility didn’t sound entirely out of character.

I got back in the car and drove slowly through the streets, looking for him. I stepped out into a few other patches of shadow, but I only caught his scent once more, and the direction of it confused me. Where was he trying to go?

I drove back and forth between the bookstore and the restaurant a few times, hoping to see him on his way. Jessica and Angela were already there, trying to decide whether to order or wait for Beau. Jessica was trying to figure out what Beau would like so they could maybe order for him.

I begin flitting through the minds of strangers, looking through their eyes. Surely, someone must have seen him somewhere.

I got more and more anxious the longer he remained missing. I hadn’t considered before how difficult he might prove to find once, like now, he was out of my sight and off his normal paths. I didn’t like it.

The clouds were massing on the horizon, and, in a few more minutes, I would be free to track him on foot. It wouldn’t take me long then. It was only the sun that made me so helpless now. Just a few more minutes, and then the advantage would be mine again and it would be the human world that was powerless.

Another mind, and another. So many trivial thoughts.

_…think the baby has another ear infection…_

_Was it six-four-oh or six-oh-four…?_

_Late again. I ought to tell him…_

_Here he comes! Aha!_

There, at least, was Beau’s face. Finally, someone had noticed him!

The relief lasted for only a fraction of a second, and then I read more fully the thoughts of the man who was gloating over his face in the shadows.

His mind was a stranger to me, and yet, not totally unfamiliar. I had once hunted exactly such minds.

“NO!” I roared, and a volley of snarls erupted from my throat. My foot shoved the gas pedal to the floor, but where was I going?

I knew the general location of his thoughts, but the knowledge was not specific enough. Something, there had to be something—a street sign, a store front, something in his sight that would give away his location. But Beau was deep shadow, and the man’s eyes were focused on Beau’s frightened expression—enjoying the fear there.

Beau’s face was blurred in his mind by the memory of other faces. Young men and women, all wearing the same frightened expression. Beau was not this man’s first victim.

The sound of my growls shook the frame of the car, but did not distract me.

There were no windows in the wall behind Beau. Somewhere industrial, away from the more populated shopping district. My car squealed around a corner, swerving past another vehicle, heading in what I hoped was the right direction. By the time the other driver honked, the sound was far behind me.

 _Look at him shaking!_ The man chuckled in anticipation. The fear was the draw for him—the part he enjoyed.

 _“Stay away from me.”_ Beau’s voice was low and steady, not a scream.

_“Don’t be like that.”_

He watched Beau flinch to a rowdy laugh that came from another direction. He was irritated with the noise— _Shut up, Jeff!_ He thought—but he enjoyed the way Beau cringed. It excited him. He began to imagine Beau’s pleas, the way he would beg…

I hadn’t realized that there were others with the man until I’d heard the loud laughter. I scanned out from him, desperate for something to see. He was taking the first step in Beau’s direction, flexing his hands.

The minds around him were not the cesspool that his was. They were all slightly intoxicated, not one of them realizing how far the man they called Lonnie planned to go with this. They were following Lonnie’s lead blindly. He’d promised them a little fun…

One of them glanced down the street, nervous—he didn’t want to get caught harassing the boy—and gave me what I needed. I recognized the cross street he stared toward.

I flew under a red light, sliding through a space just wide enough between two cars in the moving traffic. Horns blared behind me.

My phone vibrated in my pocket. I ignored it.

Lonnie moved slowly toward Beau, drawing out the suspense—the moment of terror that aroused him. He waited for Beau’s scream, preparing to savor it.

But Beau locked his jaw and braced himself. Lonnie was surprised—he’d expected the boy to try to run. Surprised and slightly disappointed. He liked to chase his prey down, the adrenaline of the hunt.

_Brave, this one. Maybe better, I guess… more fight in him._

I was a block away. The monster could hear the roar of my engine now, but he paid it no attention, too intent on his victim.

I would see how he enjoyed the hunt when he was the prey. I would see what he thought of _my_ style of hunting.

In another compartment of my head, I was already sorting through the range of tortures I’d born witness to in my vigilante days, searching for the most painful of them. He would suffer for this. He would writhe in agony. The others would merely die for their part, but the monster named _Lonnie_ would beg for death long before I would give him that gift.

He was in the road, crossing toward Beau.

I spun sharply around the corner, my headlights washing across the scene and freezing the rest of them in place. I could have run down the leader, who leapt out of the way, but that was too easy a death for him.

I let the car spin out, swinging all the way around so that I was facing back the way I’d come and the passenger door was closest to Beau. I threw that open, and he was already running toward the car.

“Get in,” I snarled.

_What the hell?_

_Knew this was a bad idea! Kid’s not alone._

_Should I run?_

_Think I’m going to throw up…_

Beau jumped through the open door without hesitating, pulling it shut behind him.

And then he looked up at me with the most trustful expression I had ever seen on a human face, and all my violent plans crumbled.

It took much, much less than a second for me to see that I could not leave him in the car in order to deal with the four men in the street. What would I tell him, not to watch? Ha! When did he ever do what I asked? When did he ever do the safe thing?

Would I drag them away, out of his sight, and leave him alone here? It was a long shot that another dangerous human would be prowling the streets of Port Angeles tonight, but it was a long shot that there was even the first! Like a magnet, Beau drew all things dangerous toward himself. I could not let him out of my sight.

It would feel like part of the same motion to him as I accelerated, taking him away from his pursuers so quickly that they gaped after my car with uncomprehending expressions. He would not recognize my instant of hesitation. He would assume the plan was escape from the beginning.

I couldn’t even hit the monster with my car. That would frighten Beau.

I wanted the man’s death so savagely that the need for it rang in my ears and clouded my sight and was a flavor on my tongue. My muscles were coiled with the urgency, the craving, the necessity of it. I _had_ to kill him. I would peel him slowly apart, piece by piece, skin from muscle, muscle from bone…

Except that the boy—the only boy in the world—was clinging to his seat with both hands, staring at me, his silver eyes still wide and utterly trusting. Vengeance would have to wait.

“Put on your seatbelt,” I ordered. My voice was rough with the hate and bloodlust. Not the usual bloodlust. I would not sully myself by taking any part of that man inside me.

He locked the seatbelt into place, jumping slightly at the sound it made. That little sound made him jump, yet he did not flinch as I tore through the town, ignoring all traffic guides. I could feel his eyes on me. He seemed oddly relaxed. It didn’t make sense to me—not with what he’d just been through.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice rough with stress and fear.

 _He_ wanted to know if _I_ was okay?

I thought about his question for a fraction of a second. Not long enough for him to notice the hesitation. _Was_ I okay?

“No,” I realized, and my tone seethed with rage.

I took him to the same unused drive where I’d spent the afternoon engaged in the poorest surveillance ever kept. It was black now under the trees.

I was so furious that my body froze in place there, utterly motionless. My ice-locked hands ached to crush Beau’s attacker, to grind him into pieces so mangled that his body could never be identified…

But that would entail leaving Beau here alone, unprotected in the dark night.

“Beau?” I asked through my teeth.

“Yes?” he responded huskily. He cleared his throat.

“Are you all right?” That was really the most important thing, the first priority. Retribution was secondary. I _knew_ that, but my body was so filled with rage that it was hard to think.

“Yes.” His voice was still thick—with fear, no doubt.

And so I could not leave him.

Even if he wasn’t at constant risk for some infuriating reason—some joke the universe was playing on me—even if I could be _sure_ that he would be perfectly safe in my absence, I could not leave him alone in the dark.

He must be so frightened.

Yet I was in no condition to comfort him—even if I knew exactly how that was to be accomplished, which I did not. Surely he could feel the brutality radiating out of me, surely that much was obvious. I would frighten him even more if I could not calm the lust for slaughter boiling inside of me.

I needed to think about something else.

“Distract me, please,” I pleaded.

“I’m sorry, what?”

I barely had enough control to try to explain what I needed.

“Please, just talk. Talk about anything you want until I calm down,” I instructed, my jaw still locked. Only the fact that he needed me held me inside the car. I could hear the man’s thoughts, his disappointment and anger… I knew where to find him… I closed my eyes, wishing that I couldn’t see anyway…

“Um…” He hesitated—trying to make sense of my request, I imagined. “I’m going to run over Tyler Crowley tomorrow before school?”

Yes—this is what I needed. Of course Beau would come up with something unexpected. The threat of violence coming through his lips was so unexpectedly jarring it was almost comical. If I had not been burning with the urge to kill, I would have laughed.

“Why?” I barked out, to force him to speak again.

“He’s telling everyone that he’s taking me to prom,” he said, his voice filled with frustration. “Either he’s insane or he’s still trying to make up for almost killing me last…well, you were there, you remember,” he inserted dryly, “and he thinks taking _me_ to _prom_ is somehow the correct way to do this. So I figure if I endanger his life, then we’re even, and he can’t keep trying to make amends. I don’t need enemies and maybe’s Lauren’s brother, Logan, would back off if Tyler left me alone. I might have to total his Sentra, though,” he went on, thoughtful now. “If he doesn’t have a ride he can’t take anyone to prom…”

It was encouraging to see that he sometimes got things wrong. Tyler’s persistence had more to do with the accident. Beau didn’t seem to understand the appeal he held for the human boys at the high school. Did he not see the appeal he had for me, either?

Ah, it was working. The baffling processes of his mind were always engrossing. I was beginning to gain control of myself, to see something beyond vengeance and torture…

“I heard about that,” I told him. He had stopped talking, and I needed him to continue.

“ _You_ did?” he asked incredulously. And then his voice was more frustrated than before. “If he’s paralyzed from the neck down, he can’t go to the prom either.”

I wished there was some way I could ask him to continue with his delightfully deadpan comments. He couldn’t have picked a better way to calm me. His voice somehow managed to soothe me, even thick with frustration as it now was.

I sighed, and opened my eyes.

“Better?” he asked timidly.

“Not really.”

I leaned my head back against the seat, staring at the ceiling of the car, willing my face to relax without much success.

No, I was calmer, but not better. Because I’d just realized that I could not kill the monster named Lonnie, and I still wanted that more than anything else in the world. Almost.

The only thing in this moment that I wanted more than to commit a highly justifiable murder, was this boy. And, though I couldn’t have him, just the dream of having him made it impossible for me to go on a killing spree tonight—no matter how defensible such a thing might be.

Beau deserved better than a killer.

I’d spent eight decades trying to be something other than that—anything than a killer. Those years of effort could never make me worthy of the boy sitting beside me. And yet, I felt that if I returned to that life—the life of a killer—for even one night, I would surely put him out of my reach forever. Even if I didn’t drink his attacker’s blood—even if I didn’t have that evidence blazing red in my eyes—wouldn’t he sense the difference?

I was trying to be good enough for him. It was an impossible goal. I would keep trying.

“What’s wrong?” he whispered.

His breath filled my nose, and I was reminded why I could not deserve him. After all of this, even with as much as I loved him… he still made my mouth water.

I felt a new wave of self-loathing wash over me. I couldn’t bring myself to speak, I didn’t _deserve_ to speak to him. I was a monster. I continued to stare at the ceiling, despising myself.

Suddenly, unexpectedly, I felt his warm hand rest gently on my arm. If my heart could beat, it might have exploded out of my chest. My eyes snapped to his face, he was looking down at my arm. When he looked up to face me, his expression was gentle and concerned.

“Edward, what’s wrong?” He asked again. Hearing my name, the way he said it, with such tenderness was like a soothing balm to the core of my very being.

I could not keep anything from him. I would give him as much honestly as I could. I owed him that.

“Sometimes I have a problem with my temper, Beau.” I stared into the depths of his beautiful eyes, wishing both that he would hear the horror inherent in my words and also that he would not. Mostly that he would not. _Run, Beau, run. Stay, Beau, stay._ “But it _wouldn’t_ be helpful for me to turn around and hunt down those…” Just thinking about it almost pulled me from the car. I took a deep breath, letting his scent scorch down my throat. “At least, that’s what I’m trying to convince myself.”

“No, it wouldn’t,” he said softly, soothingly.

“I shouldn’t go back to those…” I struggled with the word, “Those thugs.”

Even I was unsure if I had made a statement or asked a question. Perhaps it was somewhere in the middle.

“Um, no.”

I took a deep burning breath, letting it out in a long, slow sigh.

Beau said nothing else. How much had he heard in my words? I glanced at him furtively, but his face was unreadable. Blank with shock, perhaps. Well, he wasn’t screaming. Not yet.

It was quiet for a moment. I warred with myself, trying to be what I should be. What I couldn’t be.

“Jessica and Angela will be worried,” he said quietly. His voice was very calm, and I was not sure how that could be. _Was_ he in shock? Maybe tonight’s events hadn’t sunk in for him yet. “I was supposed to meet them.”

Did he want to be away from me?  Or was he just worried about his friends’ worry?

He slowly removed his hand from my arm. I tried not to think that meant he wanted to be away from me. I said nothing, but I started the car and took him back. Every inch closer I got to the town, the harder it was to hold on to my purpose. I was just so _close_ to the monster…

If it was impossible—if I could never have nor deserve Beau—then where was the sense in letting the man go unpunished? Surely I could allow myself that much…

No. I wasn’t giving up. Not yet. I wanted him too much to surrender.

We were at the restaurant where he was supposed to meet his friends before I’d even begun to make sense of my thoughts. Jessica and Angela were finished eating, and both now truly worried about Beau. They were on their way to search for him, heading off along the dark street.

“How did you know where…?” Beau’s unfinished questioned interrupted me, and I realized that I had made yet another gaffe. I’d been too distracted to remember to ask him where he was supposed to meet his friends.

But instead of finishing the inquiry and pressing the point, he just shook his head and half-smiled.

What did _that_ mean?

Well, I didn’t have time to puzzle over his strange acceptance of my stranger knowledge. I opened my door.

“What are you doing?” he asked, sounding startled.

 _Not letting you out of my sight. Not allowing myself to be alone tonight. In that order._ “I’m taking you to dinner.”

Well this should be interesting. It seemed like another night entirely when I’d imagined bringing Alice along and pretending to choose the same restaurant as Beau and his friends by accident. And now, here I was, practically on a date with the boy. Only it didn’t count, because I wasn’t even giving him a chance to say no.

He already had his door half open before I’d walked around the car—it wasn’t usually so frustrating to have to move at an inconspicuous speed—instead of waiting for me to get it for him. Was this because he wasn’t used to being treated so well, or because he didn’t think of me as a gentleman?

I waited for him to join me, getting more anxious as his girlfriends continued in toward the dark corner.

“Go stop Jessica and Angela before I have to track them down, too,” I ordered quickly. “I don’t think I could restrain myself if I ran into your other friends again.” No, I would not be strong enough for that.

He shuddered, and then quickly collected himself. He took a half step after them, calling, “Jess! Angela!” in a loud voice. They turned, and he waved his arm over his head to catch their attention.

 _Beau! Oh, he’s safe!_ Angela thought with relief.

 _Oh, my god, I’m going to kick his butt for scaring me like that_. Jessica grumbled to herself with acute relief that Beau wasn’t lost or hurt. That made me like her a little more than I had.

They hurried back, and then stopped, shocked, when they saw me beside him.

 _Oh. My. God._ Jess thought, stunned. _No freaking way!_

 _Edward Cullen? Did Beau go away by himself to find him? But why would he ask about them being out of town if he knew he was here…_ I got a brief flash of Beau’s mortified expression when he’d asked Angela if my family was often absent from school. _No, he couldn’t have known,_ Angela decided.

Jessica’s thoughts were moving past the surprise and on to excitement. _Beau’s been holding out on me_.

“Where have you been?” She demanded, staring at Beau, her voice full of concern.

“I got lost. And then I ran into Edward,” Beau said, waving one hand toward me. His tone was remarkably normal. Like that was truly all that had happened.

He must be in shock. That was the only explanation for his calm.

“Would it be all right if I joined you?” I asked—to be polite; I knew that they’d already eaten.

 _Holy crap but he’s hot!_ Jessica thought, her head suddenly slightly incoherent.

Angela wasn’t much more composed. _Wish we hadn’t eaten. Wow. Just. Wow._

Now why couldn’t I do that to Beau?

“Er… Sure,” Jessica agreed.

Angela frowned. “Um, actually, Beau, we already ate while we were waiting,” she admitted. “I’m sorry.”

 _What? Shut up!_ Jessica complained internally.

Beau shrugged casually. So at ease. Definitely in shock. “That’s fine—I’m not hungry.”

“I think you should eat something,” I disagreed. He needed sugar in his bloodstream—though it smelled sweet enough as it was, I thought wryly. The horror was going to come crashing down on him momentarily, and an empty stomach wouldn’t help. He was an easy fainter, as I knew from experience.

These girls wouldn’t be in any danger if they went straight home. Danger didn’t stalk _their_ every step.

And I’d rather be alone with Beau—as long as he was willing to be alone with me.

“Do you mind if I drive Beau home tonight?” I said to Jessica before Beau could respond. “That way you won’t have to wait while he eats.”

“Oh, wow, that’s… so thoughtful.” Jessica bit her lip, trying to read Beau’s face, looking for some sign that this was what he wanted.

 _Ooh, I bet Beau wants to be alone with him. I mean, who wouldn’t?_ Jessica thought. At the same time, she watched Beau wink.

Beau _winked_.

“Okay,” Angela said quickly, in a hurry to be out of the way if that was what Beau wanted. And it seemed that he did want that. “See you tomorrow, Beau… Edward.” She struggled to say my name in a casual tone. Then she grabbed Jessica’s hand and began towing her away.

I would have to find a way to thank Angela for this.

Jessica’s car was close by and in a bright circle of light cast by a streetlamp. Beau watched them carefully, a little crease of concern between his eyes, until they were in the car, so he must be fully aware of the danger he’d been in. Jessica waved as she drove away, and Beau waved back. It wasn’t until the car disappeared that he took a deep breath and turned to look up at me.

“Honestly, I’m not hungry,” he said.

Why had he waited for them to be gone before speaking? Did he truly want to be alone with me—even now, after witnessing my homicidal rage?

Whether that was the case or not, he was going to eat something.

“Humor me,” I said.

I held the restaurant door open for him and waited.

He sighed, and walked through.

I walked beside him to the podium where the hostess waited. Beau still seemed entirely self-possessed. I wanted to touch his hand, his forehead, to check his temperature. But my cold hand would repulse him, as it had before.

 _Oh, my_ , the hostess’s rather loud mental voice intruded into my consciousness. _My, oh my._

It seemed to be my night to turn heads. Or was I only noticing it more because I wished so much that Beau would see me this way? We were always attractive to our prey. I’d never thought so much about it before. Usually—unless, as with people like Shelly Cope and Jessica Stanley, there was constant repetition to dull the horror—the fear kicked in fairly quickly after the initial reaction…

“A table for two?” I prompted when the hostess didn’t speak.

“Oh, er, yes. Welcome to La Bella Italia.” _Mmm! What a voice!_ “Please follow me.” Her thoughts were preoccupied—calculating.

_Maybe they’re cousins. They couldn’t be brothers, they don’t look anything alike. But family definitely. They can’t be here on a date._

Human eyes were clouded; they saw nothing clearly. How could this small-minded woman find my physical lures—snares for prey—so attractive, and yet be unable to see the soft perfection of the boy beside me?

 _Well, no need to help him out, just in case_ , the hostess thought as she led us to a family-sized table in the middle of the most crowded part of the restaurant. _Can I give him my number while he’s there…?_ She mused.

I pulled a bill from my back pocket. People were invariably more cooperative when money was involved.

Beau was already taking the seat the hostess indicated without objection. I shook my head at him, and he hesitated, cocking his head to one side with curiosity. Yes, he would be very curious tonight. A crowd was not the ideal place for this conversation.

“Perhaps something more private?” I requested of the hostess, handing her the money. Her eyes widened in surprise, and then narrowed while her hand curled around the tip.

“Sure.”

She peeked at the bill while she led us around a dividing wall.

_Fifty dollars for a better table? Rich, too. That makes sense—I bet his jacket cost more than my last paycheck. Damn. Why are all the good ones into guys?_

She offered us a booth in a quiet corner of the restaurant where no one would be able to see us—to see Beau’s reactions to whatever I would tell him. I had no clue as to what he would want from me tonight. Or what I would give him.

How much had he guessed? What explanation of tonight’s events had he told himself?

“How’s this?” the hostess asked.

“Perfect,” I told her and, feeling slightly annoyed by her resentful attitude toward Beau, I smiled widely at her, baring my teeth. Let her see me clearly.

 _Whoa._ “Um… your server will be right out.” _He can’t be real. I must be asleep. Damn. I’ve got to tell Adam about him. If I’m not his type, maybe Adam’ll get lucky…_ She wandered away, listing slightly to the side.

Odd. She still wasn’t frightened. I suddenly remembered Emmett teasing me in the cafeteria, so many weeks ago. _I’ll bet I could have scared him better than that._

Was I losing my edge?

“You really shouldn’t do that to people,” Beau interrupted my thoughts in a disapproving tone. “It’s hardly fair.”

I stared at his critical expression. What did he mean? I hadn’t frightened the hostess at all, despite my intentions. “Do what?”

“Dazzle them like that—she’s probably hyperventilating in the kitchen right now.”

Hmm. Beau was very nearly right. The hostess was only semi-coherent at the moment, describing her incorrect assessment of me to her friend on the wait staff.

“Oh, come on,” Beau chided me when I didn’t answer immediately. “You _have_ to know the effect you have on people.”

“I dazzle people?” That was an interesting way of phrasing it. Accurate enough for tonight. I wondered why the difference…

“You know you do,” he said, still critical. “So I don’t know why you’re acting surprised.”

I grinned at his tone.

“Do I dazzle _you_?” I voiced my curiosity impulsively, and then the words were out, and it was too late to recall them.

But before I had time to too deeply regret speaking the words aloud he answered, “Maybe.” And his cheeks took on a faint pink glow.

My silent heart swelled with a hope more intense than I could ever remember having felt before.

“Hello,” someone said, the server, introducing himself. His thoughts were loud, and more explicit than the hostess’s, but I tuned him out. I stared at Beau’s face instead of listening, watching the blood spreading under his skin, noticing not how that made my throat flame, but rather how it brightened his fair face, how it set off the cream of his skin…

The server was waiting for something from me. Ah, he’d asked for our drink order. I continued to stare at Beau, and the server grudgingly turned to look at him, too.

“I’ll have a coke?” Beau said, as if asking for approval.

“Two cokes,” I amended. Thirst—normal, human thirst—was a sign of shock. I would make sure he had the extra sugar from the soda in his system.

He looked healthy, though. More than healthy. He looked radiant.

“What?” He asked—wondering why I was staring, I guessed. I was vaguely aware that the server had left.

“How are you feeling?” I asked.

He blinked, surprised by my question. “I’m fine.”

“You don’t feel dizzy, sick, cold…?”

He was even more confused now. “Should I?”

“Well, I’m actually waiting for you to go into shock.” I half-smiled, expecting his denial. He would not want to be taken care of.

It took him a minute to answer me. His eyes were slightly unfocused. He looked that way sometimes, when I smiled at him. Was he… dazzled?

I would love to believe that.

“I don’t think that will happen. I’ve always been very good at repressing things,” he answered, a little breathless.

Did he have a lot of practice repressing things, then? Was his life always this hazardous?

“Just the same,” I told him. “I’ll feel better when you have some sugar and food in you.”

The server returned with the cokes and a basket of bread. He put them in front of me, and asked for my order, trying to catch my eye in the process. I indicated that he should attend to Beau, and then went back to tuning him out. He had a vulgar mind.

“Um…” Beau glanced quickly at the menu. “I’ll have the mushroom ravioli.”

The server turned back to me eagerly. “And you?”

“Nothing for me.”

Beau made a slight face. Hmm. He must have noticed that I never ate food. He noticed everything. And I always forgot to be careful around him.

I waited till we were alone again.

“You should drink,” I insisted.

I was surprised when he complied immediately and without objection. He drank until the glass was entirely empty, so I pushed the second coke toward him, frowning a little. Thirst, or shock?

“No, I’m fine.” He shook his head slightly.

“ _I’m_ not going to drink it,” I said, fighting a smile

“Right,” he said, because he knew I wouldn’t drink it. He saw too much. “Thank you,” he breathed after downing the entire glass. He shuddered once.

“Are you cold?”

“It’s just the coke,” he said, but he shivered again, his lips trembling slightly as if his teeth were about to chatter.

The deep blue shirt he wore looked too thin to protect him adequately; it clung to him like a second skin, almost as fragile as the first. The deep V-cut of the collar exposing his ivory chest… I refocused my thoughts. “Don’t you have a jacket?”

“Yes.” He looked around himself, a little perplexed. “Oh—I left it in Jessica’s car.”

I pulled off my jacket, wishing that the gesture was not marred by my body temperature. It would have been nice to have been able to offer him a warm coat. He stared at me, his cheeks warming again. What was he thinking now?

I handed him the jacket across the table, and he put it on at once, and then shuddered again.

Yes, it would be very nice to be warm.

“Thank you,” he said. He took a deep breath, and then pushed the too-long sleeves back to free his hands. He took another deep breath.

Was the evening finally settling in? His color was still good; his skin was cream and roses against the deep blue of his shirt. My eyes wandered down his jaw, following the line of his neck, along his collarbone, and down his lean chest…

“That color blue looks wonderful with your skin,” I complimented him. Just being honest.

He flushed, enhancing the effect.

He looked well, but there was no point in taking chances. I pushed the basket of bread toward him.

“Really,” he objected, guessing my motives. “I’m not going into shock.”

“Humor me?” I smiled at him.

He rolled his eyes, picking up a breadstick.

I laughed. “Good boy.”

“Don’t push your luck,” He narrowed his eyes at me.

“I don’t know how you can be so blasé about this. You should be upset—anyone else would be. You don’t even look shaken.” I stared at him, disapproving, wondering why he couldn’t be normal and then wondering if I really wanted him to be that way.

“I feel safe with you,” he said, his eyes, again, filled with trust. Trust I didn’t deserve.

His instincts were all wrong—backwards. That must be the problem. He didn’t recognize the danger the way a human being should be able to. He had the opposite reaction. Instead of running, he lingered, drawn to what should frighten him…

How could I protect him from myself when _neither_ of us wanted that?

“This is more complicated than I’d planned,” I murmured.

I could see him turning my words over in his head, and I wondered what he made of them. He took a bit out of the breadstick without seeming fully aware of the action. He chewed for a moment, and then leaned his head to one side thoughtfully.

“Usually you’re in a better mood when your eyes are so light,” he said in a casual tone.

His observation, stated so matter of factually, left me reeling. “What?”

“You’re always crabbier when your eyes are black—I expect it then. I have a theory about that.”

So he had come up with his own explanation. Of course he had. I felt a deep sense of dread as I wondered how close he’d come to the truth.

“More theories?”

“Mm-hm.” He chewed on another bite, entirely nonchalant. As if he weren’t discussing the aspects of a monster with the monster himself.

“I hope you were more creative this time…” I lied when he didn’t continue. What I really hoped was that he was _wrong_ —miles wide off the mark. “Or are you still stealing from comic books?”

“Well, no, I didn’t get it from a comic book,” he said, a little embarrassed. “but I didn’t come up with it on my own, either.”

“And?” I asked between my teeth.

Surely he would not speak so calmly if he were about to scream.

As he hesitated, biting his lip, the server reappeared with Beau’s food. I paid the server little attention as he set the plate in front of Beau and then asked if I wanted anything.

I declined, but asked for more coke. The server hadn’t noticed the empty glasses. He took them and left.

“You were saying?” I prompted anxiously as soon as we were alone again.

“I’ll tell you about it in the car,” he said in a low voice. Ah, this would be bad. He wasn’t willing to speak his guesses around others. “If…” he tacked on suddenly.

“There are conditions?” I was so tense I wasn’t sure how my tone sounded.

“I do have a few questions, of course.”

“Of course,” I agreed, my voice hard.

His questions would probably be enough to tell me where his thoughts were heading. But how would I answer them? With responsible lies? Or would I drive him away with the truth? Or would I say nothing, unable to decide?

We sat in silence while the server replenished his supply of soda.

“Well, go ahead,” I said, jaw locked, when the server was gone.

“Why are you in Port Angeles?”

That was too easy a question—for him. It gave nothing away, while my answer, if truthful, would give away too much. Let him reveal something first.

“Next,” I said.

“But that’s the easiest one!”

“Next,” I said again.

He was frustrated by my refusal. He rolled his eyes, and looked away from me. He unrolled his silverware and picked up his fork, looking down at his food. Slowly, thinking hard, he took a bite and chewed with deliberation. He washed it down with more coke, and then finally looked up at me. His eyes were narrow with suspicion.

“Okay, then,” he said. “Let’s say, hypothetically, of course, that… someone… could know what people are thinking, read minds, you know—with just a few exceptions.”

It could be worse.

This explained that little half-smile in the car. He was quick—no one else had ever guessed this about me. Except for Carlisle, and it had been rather obvious then, in the beginning, when I’d answered all his thoughts as if he’d spoken them to me. He’d understood before I had…

This question wasn’t so bad. While it was clear that he knew that there was something wrong with me, was not as serious as it could have been. Mind-reading was, after all, not a facet of the vampire cannon. I went along with his hypothesis.

“Just _one_ exception,” I corrected. “Hypothetically.”

He fought a smile—my vague honestly pleased him. “All right, with one exception, then. How does that work? What are the limitations? How would… that someone… find something else at exactly the right time? How would he know that he was in trouble?”

“Hypothetically?”

“Sure.” His lips twitched, and his liquid silver eyes were eager.

“Well,” I hesitated. “If… that someone…”

“Let’s call him ‘Joe,’” he suggested, a wry smile on his lips.

I had to smile at his enthusiasm. Did he really think the truth would be a good thing? If my secrets were pleasant, why would I keep them from him?

“Joe, then,” I agreed. “If Joe had been paying attention, the timing wouldn’t have needed to be quite so exact.” I shook my head and repressed a shudder at the thought of how close I had been to being too late today. Even then, I had to roll my eyes at the situation. “Only you could get into trouble in a town this small. You would have devastated their crime rate statistics for a decade, you know.”

“I don’t see how this is my fault.” His voice was sharply disapproving. His lips turned down at the corners.

I examined his face, frustrated that I had upset him. “I don’t either.” I admitted. “But I don’t know who to blame.” Who could I blame for his extraordinary bad luck?

“Don’t blame me then, I don’t appreciate it.” He said, pointedly.

His lips, his skin… they looked so soft. I wanted to touch them. I wanted to press my fingertip against the corner of his frown and turn it up. Impossible. My skin would be repellent to him.

“My apologies.” I said softly. I regretted upsetting him.

He leaned across the table toward me, all irritation suddenly gone from his wide eyes.

“How did you know?” he asked, his voice low and intense.

Should I tell him the truth? And, if so, what portion?

I wanted to tell him. I wanted to deserve the trust I could still see on his face.

“You can trust me, you know,” he whispered, and he reached one hand forward as if to touch my hands where they rested on top of the empty table before me.

A part of me craved his touch, but I still pulled them back—hating the thought of his reaction to my frigid stone skin—and he pulled his own hand back.

“I _want_ to trust you.” My voice was low, soft. “But that doesn’t mean I should.”

I knew that I could trust him with protecting me secrets; he was entirely trustworthy, good to the core. But I couldn’t trust him not to be horrified by them. He _should_ be horrified. The truth _was_ horror.

“Please?” His voice was gentle and soothing again.

I read his eyes; though his mind was silent, I could perceive both trust and wonder there. I realized in that moment that I _wanted_ to answer his questions. Not because I owed it to him. Not because I wanted him to trust me.

I wanted him to _know_ me.

“I followed you to Port Angeles,” I told him, the words spilling out too quickly for me to edit them. I knew the danger of the truth, the risk I was taking. At any moment, his unnatural calm could shatter into hysterics. Contrarily, knowing this only had me talking faster. “I’ve never tried to keep a specific person alive before, and it’s much more troublesome than I would have believed. But that’s probably just because you are a magnet for trouble.”

I watched him, waiting.

He smiled. His lips curved up at the edges, and his silver eyes warmed.

I’d just admitted to stalking him, and he was smiling.

“A runaway van and a group of drunk thugs hardly makes me a magnet for trouble.” He countered. I didn’t know what to say so I remained silent. He seemed to reflect for moment before speaking again. He examined my face carefully, and his own turned serious again.

“You put yourself into that category, then? Of trouble?” he asked, softly.

Honestly was more important in regard to this question than any other. “Unequivocally.”

His eyes narrowed slightly—not suspicious now, but oddly concerned. He reached his hand across the table again, slowly and deliberately. I pulled my hands an inch away from him, but he ignored that, determined to touch me. I held my breath—not because of his scent now, but because of the sudden overwhelming tension. Fear. My skin would disgust him. He would run away.

He brushed his fingertips lightly across the back of my hand. The heat of his gentle, willing touch was like nothing I’d ever felt before. It was almost pure pleasure.

A half-smile turned up the corners of his lips.

“Thank you,” he said, meeting my stare with an intense gaze of his own. “That’s twice now.”

His soft fingers lingered on my hand as if they found it pleasant to be there.

I answered as casually as I was able. “Let’s not try for three, agreed?”

He narrowed his eyes, but he was still smiling.

“Did you ever think that maybe my number was up the first time, with the van, and that you’ve been interfering with face?” he asked.

I felt my body tense.

“Edward?”

“That wasn’t the first time,” I said, staring down at the dark maroon table cloth, my shoulders bowed in shame. My barriers were down, the truth spilling free recklessly, like his touch somehow had some power over me to compel the truth out me. “Your number was up the first time I met you.”

It was true, and it angered me. I had been positioned over his life like the blade of a guillotine. It was as if he had been marked for death by some cruel, unjust fate, and, since I’d proved an unwilling tool—that same fate continued to try to execute him. I imagined the fate personified—a grisly, jealous hag, a vengeful harpy.

I wanted something, someone, to be responsible for this—so that I would have something concrete to fight against. Something, anything to destroy, so that Beau could be safe.

Beau was very quiet; his breathing accelerated.

I looked up at him, knowing I would finally see the fear I was waiting for. Had I not just admitted to how close I’d been to killing him? Closer than the van that had come within slim inches of crushing him. And yet, his face was still calm, his eyes still tightened only with concern, and his warm hand still lingered on my own.

“You remember?” He had to remember that. “You understand?”

“Yes,” he said, his voice level and grave. His deep eyes were full of awareness.

He knew. He knew that I had wanted to murder him.

Where were the screams?

“You can leave, you know,” the words were like knives. It was the exact opposite of what I wanted, and yet, I had to be strong enough to allow him this chance to escape me. “You could take my car and drive home.”

I waited while he considered my offer. I wanted him to run. I wanted him to escape me, to be safe from me. And yet, I knew if he did leave it would destroy me. I wanted him to stay. I wanted him to love me.

“I don’t want to leave.”

My emotions warred with each other. My elation at his choosing to stay, choosing to stay with _me_ , and yet the keen frustration that he would so willingly put himself in danger.

Hopelessly, I pushed one more time at the barrier that protected his thoughts, desperate to understand. It made no logical sense to me. How could he even care about the rest with that glaring truth on the table.

“How can you say that?” I felt helpless, having to voice my question out loud.

He didn’t answer, he simply sat and watched me. Then his hand squeezed mine. I felt a thrill of fear that he would be repulsed this time. My hand was unyielding stone under his… and yet, he didn’t so much as flinch. His hand stayed wrapped around mine. His eyes continued to watch my face. He wanted to stay. He would stay with me.

I didn’t know what to think of any of it. I used to be so sure of everything. I used to know what I was doing. I used to be always so sure of my course. And now everything was chaos and tumult.

Yet, I wouldn’t trade it. I didn’t want the life that made sense. Not if the chaos meant that I could be with Beau.

“You didn’t finish answering my question,” he said suddenly, pulling me from my reverie. “How did you find me?”

He waited, only curious. His skin was pale, which was natural for him, but it still concerned me. His dinner sat nearly untouched in front of him. If I continued to tell him too much, he was going to need a buffer when the shock wore off.

I named my terms. “You eat, I’ll talk.”

He processed that for half a second, and then slowly removed his hand from mine. I ached for the exquisiteness of his touch almost as soon as his hands had left. He picked up his fork and threw a bite of food into his mouth with a speed that belied his calm and popped it in his mouth.

“It’s harder than it should be—keeping track of you,” I told him. “Usually I can find someone very easily, once I’ve heard their mind before.”

I watched his face carefully as I said this. Guessing right was one thing, having it confirmed was another.

He was motionless, his eyes wide. I felt my teeth clench together as I waited for his panic.

But he just blinked once, swallowed loudly, and then quickly scooped another bite into his mouth. He wanted me to continue.

“I was keeping tabs on Jessica, not carefully—I honestly didn’t think you’d find trouble in Port Angeles—“ I couldn’t resist adding that. Did he realize that other human lives were not so plagued with near death experiences, or did he think he was normal? He was the furthest thing from normal I’d ever encountered.

“And at first I didn’t notice when you took off on your own. Then, when I realized that you weren’t with her anymore, I went looking for you at the bookstore I saw in her head. I could tell that you hadn’t gone in, and that you’d gone south… and I knew you would have to turn around soon. So I was just waiting for you, randomly searching through the thoughts of people on the street— to see if anyone had noticed you so I would know where you were. I had no reason to be worried… but I was strangely anxious.…” My breath came faster as I remembered that feeling of panic. His scent blazed in my throat and I was glad. It was a pain that meant he was alive. As long as I burned, he was safe.

“I started to drive in circles, still…   listening. The sun was finally setting, and I was about to get out and follow you on foot. And then—”

As the memory took me—perfectly clear and vivid as if I was in the moment again—I felt the same murderous fury wash through my body, locking it into ice.

I wanted that monster, Lonnie, dead. I needed him dead. My jaw clenched tight as I concentrated on holding myself here at the table. Beau still needed me. That was what mattered.

“Then what?” he whispered, his silver eyes wide.

“I heard what _they_ were thinking,” I said through my teeth, unable to keep the words from coming out in a growl. “I saw your face in his mind.”

I could hardly resist the urge to kill. I still knew precisely where to find him. His black thoughts sucked at the night sky, pulling me toward them…

I covered my face, knowing my expression was that of a monster, a hunter, a killer. I fixed his image behind my closed eyes to control myself, focusing only on his face. The delicate framework of his bones, the thin sheath of his pale skin—like silk stretched over glass, incredibly soft and easy to shatter. He was too vulnerable for this world. He _needed_ a protector. And, through some twisted mismanagement of destiny, I was the closet thing available.

I tried to explain my violent reaction so that he would understand.

“It was very… hard—you can’t imagine how hard—for me to simply take you away, and leave them… alive,” I whispered. “I could have let you go with Jessica and Angela, but I was afraid if you left me alone, I would go looking for them.”

For the second time tonight, I confessed to murder. At least this one was defensible.

He was quiet as I struggled to control myself. I listened to his heartbeat. The rhythm was irregular, but it slowed as the time passed until it was steady again. His breathing, too, was low and even.

I was too close to the edge. I needed to get him home before…

Would I kill that low-life, then? Would I become a murderer again when Beau trusted me? Was there any way to stop myself?

He’d promised to tell me his latest theory when we were alone. Did I want to hear it? I was anxious for it, but would the reward for my curiosity be worse than not knowing?

At any rate, he must have had enough truth for one night.

I looked at him again, and his face was paler than before, but composed.

“Are you ready to go home?” I asked.

“I’m ready to leave,” he said, choosing his words carefully, as if a simple ‘yes’ did not fully express what he wanted to say.

Frustrating.

The server returned. He’d heard Beau’s last statement as he’d dithered on the other side of the partition, wondering what more he could offer me. I wanted to roll my eyes at some of the offerings he had in mind.

“How are we doing?” he asked me.

“We’re ready for the check, thank you,” I told him, my eyes on Beau.

The server’s breathing spiked and he was momentarily—to use Beau’s phrasing—dazzled by my voice.

In a sudden moment of perception, hearing the way my voice sounded in this inconsequential human’s head, I realized why I seemed to be attracting so much admiration tonight—unmarred by the usual fear.

It was because of Beau. Trying so hard to be safe for him, to be less frightening, to be _human_ , I truly had lost my edge. The other humans only saw beauty now, with my innate horror so carefully under control.

I looked up at the server, waiting for him to recover himself. It was sort of humorous, now that I understood the reason.

“S-sure,” he stuttered. “Here you go.”

He handed me the folder with the bill, thinking of the card he’d slid in behind the receipt. A card with his name and phone number on it.

Yes, it was rather funny.

I had money ready again. I gave the folder back at once, so he wouldn’t waste any time waiting for a call that would never come.

“No change,” I told him, hoping the size of the tip would assuage his disappointment.

I stood, and Beau quickly followed suit. I wanted to offer him my hand, but I thought that might be pushing my luck a little too far for one night. I thanked the server, my eyes never leaving Beau’s face. Beau seemed to be finding something amusing, too.

We walked out; I walked as close beside him as I dared. Close enough that the warmth coming off his body was like a physical touch against the left side of my body. As I held the door open for him, he sighed quietly, and I wondered what regret made him sad. I stared into his eyes, about to ask, when he suddenly looked at the ground, seeming embarrassed. It made me more curious, even as it made me reluctant to ask. The silence between us continued while I opened the door for him and then got into the car.

I turned the heater on—the warmer weather had come to an abrupt end; the cold car must be uncomfortable for him. He huddled in my jacket, a small smile on his lips.

I waited postponing conversation until the lights of the boardwalk faded. It made me feel more alone with him.

Was that the right thing? Now that I was focused only on him, the car seemed very small. His scent swirled through it with the current of the heater, building and strengthening. It grew into its own force, like another entity in the car. A presence that demanded recognition.

It had that; I burned. The burning was acceptable, though. It seemed strangely appropriate to me. I had been given so much tonight—more than I’d expected. And here he was, still willingly at my side. I owed something in return for that. A sacrifice. A burnt offering.

Now if I could just keep it to that; just burn, and nothing more. But the venom filled my mouth, and my muscles tensed in anticipation, as if I were hunting…

I had to keep such thoughts from my mind. And I knew that would distract me.

“Now,” I said to him, fear of his response taking the edge off the burn. “It’s your turn.”


	10. Theory

“Can I ask just one more?” he entreated instead of answering my demand.

I was on edge, anxious for the worst. And yet, how tempting it was to prolong this moment. To have Beau with me, willingly, for just a few seconds longer. I sighed at the dilemma, and then said, “One.”

“Well…,” he hesitated for a moment, as if deciding which question to voice. “You said you knew I hadn’t gone into the bookstore, and that I had gone south. I was just wondering how you knew that.”

I glared out the windshield. Here was another question that revealed nothing on his part, and too much on mine.

“Really? I thought we were past all the evasiveness,” he said, his tone critical and disappointed.

How ironic. He was relentlessly evasive, without even trying.

Well, he wanted me to be direct. And this conversation wasn’t going anywhere good, regardless.

“Fine, then,” I said. “I followed your scent.”

I wanted to watch his face, but I was afraid of what I would see. Instead, I listened to his breath accelerate and then stabilize. He spoke again after a moment, and his voice was steadier than I would have expected.

“And then you didn’t answer one of my first questions…” he said.

I looked down at him, frowning. He was stalling, too.

“Which one?”

“How does it work—the mind-reading thing?” he asked, reiterating his question from the restaurant. “Can you read anybody’s mind, anywhere? How do you do it? Can the rest of your family do the same thing?” His seemed more confident with his questions now.

“That’s more than one question,” I said.

He just looked at me, waiting for his answers.

And why not tell him? He’d already guessed most of this, and it was an easier subject that the one that loomed.

 “No, it’s just me. And I can’t hear anyone, anywhere. They have to be fairly close. The more familiar someone’s… ‘voice’ is, the farther away I can hear them. But still, no more than a few miles.” I tried to think of a way to describe it so that he would understand. An analogy that he could relate to. “It’s a little like being in a huge hall filled with people, everyone talking at once. It’s just a hum—a buzzing of voices in the background. Until I focus on one voice, and then what they’re thinking is clear. Most of the time, I tune it all out—it can be very distracting. And then it’s easier to seem _normal_ ”—I grimaced—”when I’m not accidentally answering someone’s thought rather than their words.”

“Why do you think you can’t hear me?” he wondered.

Ah. The question of the century. I examined his face, searching for the answer in his beautiful eyes and coming up short yet again. I decided to give him another truth and another analogy.

“I don’t know,” I admitted. “The only guess I have is that maybe your mind doesn’t work the same way the rest of theirs do. Like your thoughts are on the AM frequency and I’m only getting FM.”

I realized that he would not like this analogy. The anticipation of his reaction had me smiling. He didn’t disappoint.

“Did you just suggest my mind doesn’t work right?” he asked, his voice rising with chagrin. “Like I’m a freak?”

Ah, the irony again.

“I hear voices in my mind and you’re worried that _you’re_ the freak,” I laughed. He understood all the small things, and yet the big ones he got backwards. Always the wrong instincts…

Beau was gnawing on his lip, and the crease between his eyes was etched deep.

“Don’t worry,” I reassured him. “It’s just a theory…” And there was a more important theory to be discussed. I was anxious to get it over with. Each passing second was beginning to feel more and more like borrowed time.

“Which brings us back to you.”

He sighed, still chewing his lip—I worried that he would hurt himself. He stared into my eyes, his face troubled.

“Aren’t we past all evasions now?” I asked quietly.

He looked down, struggling with some internal dilemma. Suddenly, he stiffened and his eyes flew wide open. Fear flashed across his face for the first time.

“Holy crow!” he gasped.

I panicked. What had he seen? How had I frightened him?

Then he shouted, “Slow down!”

“What’s wrong?” I didn’t understand where his terror was coming from.

“You’re pushing a hundred and ten miles an hour!” he yelled at me. He flashed a look out the window, and recoiled from the dark trees racing past us.

This little thing, just a bit of speed, had him shouting in fear?

I rolled my eyes. “Relax, Beau.”

“Are you trying to kill us?” he demanded, his voice high and tight.

“We’re not going to crash,” I promised him.

He sucked in a sharp breath, and then spoke in a slightly more level tone. “Why are you in such a hurry?”

“I always drive like this.”

I met his gaze, amused by his shocked expression.

“Keep your eyes on the road, Edward!” He shouted.

“I’ve never had an accident, Beau—I’ve never even gotten a ticket.” I grinned at him and touched my forehead. It made it even more comical—the absurdity of being able to joke with him about something so secret and strange. “Built-in radar detector.”

“Very funny,” he said sarcastically, his voice more frightened than angry. “Charlie’s a cop, remember? I was raised to abide by traffic laws. Besides, if you turn us into a Volvo pretzel around a tree trunk, you can probably just walk away.”

“Probably,” I repeated, and then laughed without humor. Yes, we would fare quite differently in a car accident. He was right to be afraid, despite my driving abilities… “But you can’t.”

With a sigh, I let the car drift to a crawl. “Happy?”

He eyed the speedometer, and smirked. “Good boy.”

I felt a thrill of excitement rush through my body at his words. I couldn’t understand what I was feeling. I narrowed my eyes and stared at him, but I couldn’t fight the smile that wanted to break across my face

Despite the thrill of his words, the torture of crawling along the highway was nearly unbearable. “I hate driving slow.” I muttered, but let the needle slide another notch down.

“This is slow?” he asked.

“Enough commentary on my driving,” I said impatiently. He stifled a laugh at my tone, but I was frustrated now. How many times had he dodged my question? Three times? Four? Were his speculations that horrific? I had to know—immediately. “I’m still waiting for your latest theory.”

He bit his lip again, and his expression became upset, almost pained.

I reined in my impatience and softened my voice. I didn’t want him to be distressed.

“I won’t laugh,” I promised, wishing that it was only embarrassment that made him unwilling to talk.

“I’m not worried about that.” His voice was soft.

“Then what?” I pressed.

“I’m worried that you’ll be… upset,” he whispered.

I considered his words. I didn’t want him to be worried about that. I never wanted him to be afraid of me being upset with him. It made me feel more like a monster than I already was. I watched him from the corners of my eyes. He was fretting. Rubbing his hands, nervously. I decided to take a chance. I held my hand out towards him—just a few centimeters.

His eyes darted up to mine, confusion apparent in their silvery depths.

“Don’t worry about me,” I assured him. “I can handle it.”

He tentatively took my hand, and I curled my fingers around his as gently as I could for just a brief moment. Absorbing the sensation of his warm hand—like silk over glass. Glass I could shatter with the slightest wrong move. I unwillingly untangled my hand from his and placed it on the gearshift.

He slowly placed his hand over the top of mine again. Did he really want his hand on mine? Was he truly not repulsed by my hand? He ran his thumb along the outside of my hand, tracing from my wrist to the tip of my little finger. The sensation was exhilarating, and yet I could not revel in it as deeply as I wished. He had to be repulsed by the cold hardness of my skin…

“The suspense is killing me, Beau,” the words came out a shaky breath as I watched his hand. His touch was stirring me in ways I couldn’t understand.

His voice was small. “I don’t know where to start.”

“Why don’t you start at the beginning…” I remembered his words before dinner. “You said you didn’t come up with this on your own?”

“No,” he agreed, and then he was silent again.

I thought about what might have inspired him. “What got you started—a book? A film?”

I should have looked through his collections when he was out of the house. I had no idea if Bram Stoker or Anne Rice was there in his stack of worn paperbacks…

“No,” he said again. “It was Saturday, at the beach.”

I hadn’t expected that. The local gossip about us had never strayed into anything too bizarre—or too precise. Was there a new rumor I’d missed? Beau peeked up at me and saw the surprise on my face.

“I ran into an old family friend—Jacob Black,” he went on. “His dad and Charlie have been friends since I was a baby.”

Jacob Black—the name was no familiar, and yet it reminded me of something… some _time_ , long ago… I stared out of the windshield, flipping through memories to find the connection.

“His dad is one of the Quileute elders,” he said.

Jacob Black. _Ephraim Black_. A descendant, no doubt.

It was as bad as it could get.

He knew the truth.

My mind was flying through the ramifications as the car flew around the dark curves in the road, my body rigid with anguish—motionless except for the small, automatic actions it took to steer the car.

He knew the truth.

But… if he’d learned the truth Saturday… then he’d known it all evening long… and yet…

“We went for a walk on the beach together,” he went on.

Despite my growing panic, I still felt a twinge of jealousy over the way he described the walk. Laughable. Like that mattered anymore now that he knew the truth.

He continued, “And he was telling me about some old legends—trying to scare me, I guess. He told me one…”

He stopped short, but there was no need for his qualms now; I knew what he was going to say. The only mystery left was why he was here with me now.

“Go on,” I said.

“About vampires,” he breathed, the words less than a whisper.

Somehow, it was even worse than knowing that he knew, hearing him speak the word aloud. I flinched at the sound of it. Yet, his thumb continued to trace the lines of my hand. Somehow, the gesture comforted me and I controlled myself again.

“And… you immediately thought of me?” I asked.

“No. He mentioned your family.”

How ironic that it would be Ephraim’s own progeny that would violate the treaty he’d vowed to uphold. A grandson, or great-grandson perhaps. How many years had it been? Seventy?

I should have realized that it was not the old men who _believed_ in the legends that would be the danger. Of course, the younger generation—those who would have been warned, but would have thought the ancient superstitions laughable—of course that was where the danger of exposure would lie.

I suppose this meant I was now free to slaughter the small, defenseless tribe on the coastline, were I so inclined. Ephraim and his pack of protectors were long dead…

“He just thought it was a silly folk-tale,” Beau said suddenly, his voice edged with a new anxiety. “He didn’t expect me to think anything of it.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw his free hand tense uneasily.

“It was my fault,” he said after a brief pause, and then he hung his head as if he were ashamed. “I convinced him to tell me.”

“Why?” It wasn’t so hard to keep my voice level now. The worst was already done. As long as we spoke of the details of the revelation, we didn’t have to move on to the consequences of it.

“Logan said something about you—he was trying to provoke me.” He made a little face at the memory. I was slightly distracted, wondering how Beau would be provoked by someone talking about me… “And an older boy from the tribe said your family didn’t come to the reservation, only it sounded like he meant something different. So, when Jacob and I went off alone I asked him.”

His head dropped slightly lower as he admitted this.

Surely, there was more to the story. The Black boy must have had some idea that the tribe legends were secrets. Surely he wouldn’t have just given away the information.

“You must have said something to convince him to tell you.”

Beau looked confused by this, “No… I just… asked him?”

Suddenly, I could just imagine—considering the attraction he seemed to have for everyone, totally unconscious on his part—how overwhelming his charm could be, when he wasn’t even trying. Alone, walking on the beach with this boy and his stunning silver eyes, I was suddenly full of pity for the unsuspecting boy he’d questioned and I couldn’t stop myself from laughing.

“You obviously don’t understand your own charm,” I said, and then I laughed again with black humor. I wished I could have heard the Black boy’s reaction, witnessed the devastation for myself. “And you accused me of dazzling people—poor Jacob Black.”

I wasn’t as angry with the source of my exposure as I would have expected to feel. He didn’t know any better. And how could I except anyone to deny Beau what he wanted? No, I only felt sympathy for the damage Beau would have done to the Black boy’s peace of mind.

I felt his blush heat the air between us. I glanced at him, and he was glaring at me, scarlet faced. “Are you jealous?” he said quickly.

I probably was, if I was honest. How much I would prefer it were me walking along the beach with Beau while he unleashed the full power of his charm on me. Ah, perchance to dream.

“What did you do then?” I prompted. Time to get back to the horror story.

“I did some research on the internet.”

Ever practical. “And did that convince you?”

“No,” he said. “Nothing fit. Most of it was kind of silly. And then…” He trailed off. He seemed thoughtful for a moment. “I decided… It didn’t matter,” he whispered the words.

Shock froze my thoughts for a half-second, and then it all fit together. Why he’d sent his friends away tonight rather than escape with them. Why he had gotten into my car with me again instead of running, screaming for the police…

His reactions were always wrong—always completely wrong. He pulled danger toward himself. He invited it.

“It didn’t _matter?”_ I said through my teeth, anger filling me. I pulled my hand out from under his. How was I supposed to protect someone so… so… so determined to be unprotected?

“No,” he said in a low voice that was inexplicably tender. “It doesn’t matter to me what you are.”

He was impossible.

“You don’t care if I’m a monster? If I’m not _human_?”

“No.”

I started to wonder if he was entirely stable.

I supposed that I could arrange for him to receive the best care available… Carlisle would have the connections to find him the most skilled doctors, the most talented therapists. Perhaps something could be done to fix whatever it was that was wrong with him, what ever it was that made him content to sit beside a vampire with his heart beating calmly and steadily. I would watch over the facility, naturally, and visit as often as I was allowed…

“You’re upset,” he sighed. “I shouldn’t have said anything.”

As if him hiding these disturbing tendencies would help either of us.

“No. I’d rather know what you’re thinking—even if what you’re thinking is insane.”

I had rested my hand back on the gearshift, and his hand returned to stroking the back of mine with his thumb. Despite everything, it was soothing.

“What are you thinking about now?” I needed to know, I needed some explanation to the workings of his mind.

“I’m just curious about a few things.” His voice was composed.

It was like it didn’t matter what I was. He didn’t care. He knew I was inhuman, a monster, and this didn’t really matter to him.

Aside from my worries about his sanity, I began to feel a swelling of hope. I tried to quash it.

“What are you curious about?” I asked him. There were no secrets left, only minor details.

“How old are you?” he asked.

My answer was automatic and ingrained. “Seventeen.”

“And how long have you been seventeen?”

I tried not to smile at the patronizing tone. “A while,” I admitted.

“Okay,” he said, abruptly enthusiastic. He smiled up at me. When I stared back, anxious again about his mental health, he smiled wider. I grimaced.

“Don’t laugh,” he warned. “But how can you come out during the daytime?”

I laughed despite his request. His research had not netted him anything unusual, it seemed. “Myth,” I told him.

“Burned by the sun?”

“Myth.”

“Sleeping in coffins?”

“Myth.”

Sleep had not been a part of my life for so long—not until these last few nights, as I’d watched Beau dreaming…

“I can’t sleep,” I murmured, answering his question more fully.

He was silent for a moment.

“At all?”

“Never,” I breathed.

I stared into his eyes, wide under the thick fringe of lashes, and yearned for sleep. Not for oblivion, as I had before, not to escape boredom, but because I wanted to _dream_. Maybe I could be unconscious, if I could dream, I could live for a few hours in a world where he and I could be together. He dreamed of me. I wanted to dream of him.

He stared back at me, his expression full of wonder. I had to look away.

I could not dream of him. He should not dream of me.

“You haven’t asked the most important question yet,” I said, my silent chest colder and harder than before. He had to be forced to understand. At some point, he would have to realize what he was doing now. He must be made to see that this all _did_ matter—more than any other consideration. Considerations like the fact that I loved him.

“Which one is that?” he asked, surprised and unaware.

This only made my voice harder. “You aren’t concerned about my diet?”

“Oh. That.” He spoke in a quiet tone that I couldn’t interpret.

“Yes, that. Don’t you want to know if I drink blood?”

He cringed away from my question. Finally. He was understanding.

“Well, Jacob said something about that,” he said.

“What did Jacob say?”

“He said you didn’t… hunt people. He said your family wasn’t supposed to be dangerous because you only hunted animals.”

“He said we weren’t dangerous?” I repeated cynically.

“Not exactly,” he clarified. “He said you weren’t _supposed_ to be dangerous. But the Quileutes still didn’t want you on their land, just in case.”

I stared at the road, my thoughts in a hopeless snarl, my throat aching with the familiar fiery thirst.

“So, was he right?” he asked, as calmly as if he were confirming aweather report. “About not hunting people?”

“The Quileutes have a long memory.”

He nodded to himself, thinking hard.

“Don’t let that make you complacent, though,” I said quickly. “They’re right to keep their distance from us. We are still dangerous.”

“I don’t understand.”

No he didn’t. How to make him see?

“We try,” I told him. “We’re usually very good at what we do. Sometimes we make mistakes. Me, for example. Allowing myself to be alone with you.”

His scent was still a force in the car. I was growing used to it, I could almost ignore it, but there was no denying that my body still yearned toward him for the wrong reason. My mouth was swimming with venom.

“This is a mistake?” he asked, and there was heartbreak in his voice. The sound of it disarmed me. He wanted to be with me—despite everything, he wanted to be with me.

Hope swelled again, and I beat it back.

“A very dangerous one,” I told him truthfully, wishing the truth could really somehow cease to matter.

He didn’t respond for a moment. I heard his breathing change—it hitched in strange ways that did not sound like fear.

“Tell me more,” he said suddenly, his voice distorted by anguish.

I examined him carefully.

He was in pain. How had I allowed _this?_

“What more do you want to know?” I asked, trying to think of a way to keep him from hurting. He should not hurt. I couldn’t let him be hurt.

“Tell me why you hunt animals instead of people,” he said, still anguished.

Wasn’t it obvious? Or maybe this didn’t matter to him either.

“I don’t _want_ to be a monster,” I muttered.

“But animals aren’t enough?”

I searched for another comparison, a way that he could understand. “I can’t be sure, of course, but I’d compare it to living on tofu and soy milk; we call ourselves vegetarians, our little inside joke. It doesn’t completely satiate the hunger—or rather the thirst. But it keeps us strong enough to resist. Most of the time.” My voice got lower; I was ashamed of the danger I had allowed him to be in. Danger I continued to allow... “Sometimes it’s more difficult than others.”

“Is it very difficult for you now?”

I sighed. Of course he would ask the question I didn’t want to answer. “Yes,” I admitted.

I expected his physical response correctly this time; his breathing held steady, his heart kept an even pattern. I expected it, but I did not understand it. How could he not be afraid?

“But you’re not hungry now,” he declared, perfectly sure of himself.

“Why do you think that?”

“Your eyes,” he said, his tone offhand. “I told you I had a theory. I’ve noticed that people are crabbier when they’re hungry.”

I chuckled at his description: _crabby_. That was an understatement. But he was dead right, as usual. “You’re observant, aren’t you?”

He smirked, but a crease ran between his eyes as if he were concentrating on something.

“Were you hunting this weekend, with Emmett?” he asked after my laugh had faded. The casual way he spoke was as fascinating as it was frustrating. Could he really accept so much in stride? I was closer to shock than he seemed to be.

“Yes,” I told him, and then, as I was about to leave it at that, I felt the same urge I’d had in the restaurant: I wanted him to know me. “I didn’t want to leave,” I went on slowly, “but it was necessary. It’s a bit easier to be around you when I’m not thirsty.”

“Why didn’t you want to leave?”

I took a deep breath, and then I turned to meet his gaze. This kind of honesty was difficult in a very different way.

“It makes me… anxious,” I supposed that word would suffice, thought it wasn’t strong enough, “to be away from you. I wasn’t joking when I asked you to try not to fall in the ocean or get run over last Thursday. I was distracted all weekend, worrying about you. And after what happened tonight, I’m surprised that you did make it through a whole weekend unscathed.” Then I remembered the scrapes on his palms. “Well, not totally unscathed,” I amended.

“What?”

“Your hands,” I reminded him.

He sighed and grimaced. “I fell. Once.”

I’d guessed right. “That’s what I thought,” I said, unable to contain my smile. “I suppose it could have been much worse—and that possibility tormented me the entire time I was away. It was a very long three days. I really got on Emmett’s nerves.” Honestly, that didn’t belong in the past tense. I was probably still irritating Emmett, and all the rest of my family, too. Except Alice…

“Three days?” he asked, his voice suddenly sharp. “Didn’t you just get back today?”

I didn’t understand the edge in his voice. “No, we got back Sunday.”

“Then why weren’t any of you in school?” He asked, frustration in his voice. His irritation confused me. He didn’t seem to realize that this question was one that related to mythology again.

“Well, you asked if the sun hurt me, and it doesn’t,” I said. “But I can’t go out in the sunlight—at least, not where anyone can see.”

That distracted him from his mysterious frustration. “Why?” he asked, leaning his head to one side.

I doubted I could come up with the appropriate analogy to explain this one. So I just told him, “I’ll show you sometime.” And then I wondered if this was a promise I would end up breaking. Would I see him again, after tonight? Did I love him enough yet to be able to bear leaving him?

“You could have called me,” he said.

What an odd conclusion. “But I knew you were safe.”

“But _I_ didn’t know where _you_ were. I—“ He came to an abrupt stop, and looked at his hands.

“What?”

“I just… I thought you might not come back. That somehow you knew that I knew and…” he paused, his voice shy, the skin over his cheekbones warming. “I was afraid you would disappear.”

 _Are you happy now?_ I demanded of myself. Well, here was my reward for hoping.

I was bewildered, elated, horrified—mostly horrified—to realize that all my wildest imaginings were not so far off the mark. This was why it didn’t matter to him that I was a monster. It was exactly the same reason that the rules no longer mattered to me. Why right and wrong were no longer compelling influences. Why all my priorities had shifted one rung down to make room for this boy at the very top.

Beau cared for me, too.

I knew it could be nothing in comparison to how I loved him. But it was enough for him to risk his life to sit here with me. To do so gladly.

Enough to cause him pain if I did the right thing and left him.

Was there anything I could do now that would _not_ hurt him? Anything at all?

I should have stayed away. I should never have come back to Forks. I would cause him nothing but pain.

Would that stop me from staying now? From making it worse?

The way I felt right now, feeling his warmth against my skin…

No. Nothing would stop me.

“Ah,” I groaned to myself. “This is wrong.”

“What did I say?” he asked, quick to take the blame on himself.

“Don’t you see, Beau? It’s one thing for me to make myself miserable, but a wholly other thing for you to be so involved. I don’t want to hear that you feel that way.” It was the truth, it was a lie. The most selfish part of me was flying with the knowledge that he wanted me as I wanted him. “It’s wrong. It’s not safe. I’m dangerous, Beau—please grasp that.”

“No.” His lips pouted out.

“I’m serious.” I was battling with myself so strongly—half desperate for him to accept, half desperate to keep the warnings from escaping—that the words came through my teeth as a growl.

“So am I,” he insisted. “I told you, it doesn’t matter to me what you are. It’s too late.”

Too late? The world was bleakly black and white for one endless second as I watched the shadows crawl across the sunny lawn toward Beau’s sleeping form in my memory. Inevitable, unstoppable. They stole the color from his skin, and plunged him into darkness.

Too late? Alice’s vision swirled in my head, Beau’s blood red eyes staring back at me impassively. Expressionless—but there was no way that he could _not_ hate me for that future. Hate me for stealing everything from him. Stealing his life and his soul.

It could not be too late.

“Never say that,” I hissed.

He stared out his window, and his teeth bit into his lip again. His hands were balled into tight fists in his lap. His breathing hitched and broke.

“What are you thinking?” I had to know.

He shook his head without looking at me. I saw something glisten, like a crystal, on his cheek.

Agony. “Are you crying?” I’d made him _cry_. I’d hurt him that much.

He scrubbed the tears away with the back of his hand.

“No,” he lied, his voice breaking.

Some long buried instinct had me reaching out toward him—in that one second I felt more human than I ever had. And then I remembered that I was… not. And I lowered my hand.

And yet, why couldn’t I be human? Why couldn’t I deny the monster I was and at least _try_? So I reached out and placed my hand on top of his. His eyes shot open to look at me.

“I’m sorry,” I said, my jaw locked. How could I ever tell him how sorry I was? Sorry for all the stupid mistakes I’d made. Sorry for my never-ending selfishness. Sorry that he was so unfortunate as to have inspired this first, tragic love of mine. Sorry also for the things beyond my control—that I’d been the monster chosen by fate to end his life in the first place.

I took a deep breath—ignoring the wretched reaction to the flavor in the car—and tried to collect myself, concentrating on gently stroking the back of his hand with my thumb.

“Will I see you tomorrow?” He asked, his voice full of emotion.

I grappled with the question. I wanted nothing more than to see him, but I had hurt him—I had made him cry. Would he want to see me?

“Do you want to see me?” I asked, my voice tinged with the sadness and worry that he would say no.

“I do.” Was his simple reply.

Elation beyond words.

As long as I was on my way to hell—I might as well enjoy the journey.

“Then I’ll be there,” I smiled at him, and it felt good to do this. “I’ll save you a seat at lunch.”

His heart fluttered; my dead heart suddenly felt warmer.

I stopped the car in front of his father’s house. He made no move to leave.

“You’ll really be there tomorrow?” He asked.

“I promise.” I gave his hand a gentle squeeze of assurance—exercising as much control as I could—before removing my hand from his.

How could doing the wrong thing give me so much happiness? Surely there was something amiss in that.

He nodded, satisfied, and started to remove my jacket.

“You can keep it,” I assured him quickly. I rather wanted to leave him with something of myself. A token, like the bottle cap that was in my pocket now… “You don’t have a jacket for tomorrow.”

He handed it back to me, smiling ruefully. “I don’t want to have to explain to Charlie,” he told me.

I would imagine not. I smiled at him. “Oh, right.”

He put his hand on the door handle, and then stopped. Unwilling to leave, just as I was unwilling to let him go.

To have him unprotected, even for a few moments…

Peter and Charlotte were well on their way by now, long past Seattle, no doubt. But there were always others. This world was not a safe place for any human, and for him it seemed to be more dangerous than it was for the rest.

“Beau?” I asked, surprised at the pleasure there was in simply speaking his name.

“Yes?”

“Will you promise me something?”

“Sure,” he said hesitantly, his eyes tightened curiously.

“Don’t go into the woods alone,” I warned him, wondering if this request would trigger the objection in his eyes.

He blinked, startled. “Why?”

I glowered into the untrustworthy darkness. The lack of light was no problem for _my_ eyes, but neither would it trouble another hunter. It only blinded humans.

“I’m not always the most dangerous thing out there,” I told him. “Let’s leave it at that.”

He shivered, but recovered quickly and was even smiling when he told me, “Sure, Edward.”

His breath touched my face, so sweet and fragrant.

I could stay here all night like this, but he needed his sleep. The two desires seemed equally strong as they continually warned inside me; wanting him versus wanting him to be safe.

I sighed at the impossibilities. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” I said, knowing that I would see him much sooner than that. He wouldn’t see _me_ until tomorrow, though.

“Tomorrow, then,” he agreed as he slowly opened his door.

Agony again, watching him leave.

I leaned after him, wanting to hold him there. “Beau?”

My hand caught his, he turned, and then froze, surprised to find our faces so close together.

I, too, was overwhelmed by the proximity. The heat rolled off him in waves, caressing my face. I could all but feel the silk of his skin.

“Beau, I…” but I couldn’t finish. So much I wanted to say, but I didn’t know how. My hand held his, as gently as I could. I searched his silver eyes, wishing I could know how he had decided that he cared for a monster such as myself. More than that, I was searching for the will to be strong enough to be as human as possible for him. I felt myself lean even closer to him, and my lips parted ever so slightly. Why? To speak? Or was some deep, long unspoken human instinct fighting to break free?

His heartbeat stuttered, and his lips fell open.

I could not go any further than this, after all, I was only so strong.

“Sleep well,” I whispered, and leaned away, releasing his hand, before the urgency in my body—either the familiar thirst or the very new and strange hunger I suddenly felt—could make me do something that might hurt him.

He sat there motionless for a moment, his eyes wide and stunned. Dazzled, I guessed.

As was I.

He recovered—though his face was still a bit bemused—and half fell out of the car, tripping over his feet and having to catch the frame of the car to right himself.

I chuckled—hopefully it was too quiet for him to hear.

I watched him stumble his pay up to the pool of light that surrounded the front door. Safe for the moment. And I would be back soon to make sure.

I could feel his eyes follow me as I drove down the dark street. Such a different sensation than I was accustomed to. Usually, I could simply _watch_ myself through someone’s following eyes, were I of a mind to. This was strangely exciting—this intangible sensation of watching eyes. I knew it was just because they were _his_ eyes.

A million thoughts chased each other through my head as I drove aimlessly into the night.

For a long time, I circled through the streets, going nowhere, thinking of Beau and the incredible release of having the truth known. No longer did I have to dread that he would find out what I was. He knew. It didn’t matter to him. Even though this was obviously a bad thing for him, it was amazingly liberating for me.

More than that, I thought of Beau and requited love. He couldn’t love me the way I loved him—such an overpowering, all-consuming, crushing love would probably break his fragile body. But he felt strongly enough. Enough to subdue the instinctive fear. Enough to want to be with me. And being with him was the greatest happiness I had ever known.

For a while—as I was all alone and hurting no one else for a change—I allowed myself to feel that happiness without dwelling on the tragedy. Just to be happy that he cared for me. Just to exult in the triumph of winning his affection. Just to imagine day after day of sitting close to him, hearing his voice and earning and earning his smiles.

I replayed that smile in my head, seeing his full lips pull up at the corners, the hint of a dimple that touched his chin, the way his eyes warmed and melted… His fingers had felt so warm and soft on my hand tonight. I imagined how it would feel to touch the delicate skin that stretched over his cheekbones—silky, warm… so fragile. Silk over glass… frighteningly breakable.

I didn’t see where my thoughts were leading until it was too late. As I dwelt on that devastating vulnerability, new images of his face intruded on my fantasies.

Lost in the shadows, pale with fear—yet his jaw tight and determined, his eyes fierce, full of concentration, his lean body braced to strike at the hulking forms that gathered around him, nightmares in the gloom…

“Ah,” I groaned as the simmering hate that I’d all but forgotten in the joy of loving him burst again into an inferno of rage.

I was alone. Beau was, I trusted, safe inside his home; for a moment I was fiercely glad that Charlie Swan—head of the local law enforcement, trained and armed—was his father. That ought to mean something, provide some shelter for him.

He was safe. It would not take me so very long to avenge the insult…

No. Beau deserved better. I could not allow him to care for a murderer.

But… what about the others?

Beau was safe, yes. Angela and Jessica were also, surely, safe in their beds.

Yet a monster was loose in the streets of Port Angeles. A human monster—did that make him the humans’ problem? To commit the murder I ached to commit was wrong. I knew that. But leaving him free to attack again could not be the right thing either.

The blond hostess from the restaurant. The server I’d never really looked at. Both had irritated me in a trivial way, but that did not mean they deserved to be in danger. This human monster did not discriminate.

Either one of them could be somebody’s Beau.

That realization decided me.

I turned the car north, accelerating now that I had a purpose. Whenever I had a problem that was beyong me—something tangible like this—I knew where I could go for help.

Alice was sitting on the porch, waiting for me. I pulled to a stop in front of the house rather than going around to the garage.

“Carlisle’s in his study,” Alice told me before I could ask.

“Thank you,” I said, tousling her hair as I passed.

 _Thank you for returning my call,_ she thought sarcastically.

“Oh.” I paused by the door, pulling out my phone and checking my missed calls. “Sorry. I didn’t even check to see who it was. I was… busy.”

“Yeah, I know. I’m sorry, too. By the time I saw what was going to happen, you were on your way.”

“It was close,” I murmured.

 _Sorry_ , she repeated, ashamed of herself.

It was easy to be generous, knowing that Beau was fine. “Don’t be. I know you can’t catch everything. No one expects you to be omniscient, Alice.”

“Thanks.”

“I almost asked you out to dinner tonight—did you catch that before I changed my mind?”

She grinned. “No, I missed that one, too. Wish I’d known. I would have come.”

“What were you concentrating on, that you missed so much?”

 _Jasper’s thinking about our anniversary._ She laughed. _He’s trying not to make a decision on my gift, but I think I have a pretty good idea…_

“You’re shameless.”

“Yep.”

She pursed her lips, and stared up at me, a hint of accusation in her expression. _I paid better attention later. Are you going to tell them that he knows?_

I sighed. “Yes. Later.”

_I won’t say anything. Do me a favor and tell Royal when I’m not around, okay?_

I flinched. “Sure.”

_Beau took it pretty well._

“Too well.”

Alice grinned at me. _Don’t underestimate Beau._

I tried to block the image I didn’t want to see—Beau and Alice, best of friends.

Impatient now, I sighed heavily. I wanted to be through with the next part of the evening; I wanted it over with. But I was a little worried to leave Forks…

“Alice…” I began. She saw what I was planning to ask.

_He’ll be fine tonight. I’m keeping a better watch now. He sort of needs twenty-four hour supervision, doesn’t he?_

“At least.”

“Anyway, you’ll be with him soon enough.”

I took a deep breath. The words were beautiful to me.

“Go on—get this done so you can be where you want to be,” she told me.

I nodded, and hurried up to Carlisle’s office.

He was waiting for me, his eyes on the door rather than the thick book on his desk.

“I heard Alice tell you where to find me,” he said, and smiled.

It was a relief to be with him, to see the empathy and deep intelligence in his eyes. Carlisle would know what to do.

“I need help.”

“Anything, Edward,” he promised.

“Did Alice tell you what happened to Beau tonight?”

 _Almost happened,_ he amended.

“Yes, almost. I’ve got a dilemma, Carlisle. You see, I want… very much… to kill him.” The words started to flow fast and passionate. “So much. But I know that would be wrong, because it would be vengeance, not justice. All anger, no impartiality. Still it can’t be right to leave a serial rapist and killer wandering Port Angeles! I don’t know the humans there, but I can’t let someone else take Beau’s place as this monster’s victim. Those other young men and women—someone might feel about them the same way I feel about Beau. Might suffer what I would have suffered if he’d been harmed. It’s not right—“

His wide, unexpected smile stopped the rush of my words cold.

_He’s very good for you, isn’t he? So much compassion, so much control. I’m impressed._

“I’m not looking for compliments, Carlisle.”

“Of course not. But I can’t help my thoughts, can I?” He smiled again. “I’ll take care of it. You can rest easy. No one else will be harmed in Beau’s place.”

I saw the plan in his head. It wasn’t exactly what I wanted, it did not satisfy my craving for brutality, but I could see that it was the right thing.

“I’ll show you where to find him,” I said.

“Let’s go.”

He grabbed his black bag on the way. I would have preferred a more aggressive form of sedation—like a cracked skull—but I would let Carlisle do this his way.

We took my car. Alice was still on the steps. She grinned and waved as we drove way. I saw that she had looked ahead for me; we would have no difficulties.

The trip was very short on the dark, empty road. I left my headlights off to keep from attraction attention. It made me smile to think how Beau would have reacted to _this_ pace. I’d already been driving slower than usual—to prolong my time with him—when he’d objected.

Carlisle was thinking of Beau, too.

_I didn’t foresee that he would be so good for Edward. That’s unexpected. Perhaps this was somehow meant to be. Perhaps it serves a higher purpose. Only…_

He pictures Beau with snow cold skin and blood red eyes, and then flinched away from the image.

Yes. _Only_. Indeed. Because how could there be any good in destroying something so pure and lovely.

I glowered into the night, all the joy of the evening destroyed by his thoughts.

 _Edward deserves happiness. He’s owed it_. The fierceness of Carlisle’s thoughts surprised me. _There must be a way._

I wished I could believe that—either one. But there was no higher purpose to what was happening to Beau. Just a vicious harpy, an ugly, butter face who could not bear for Beau to have the life he deserved.

I did not linger in Port Angeles. I took Carlisle to the dive bar where the creature named Lonnie was drowning his disappointment with his friends—two of whom had already passed out. Carlisle could see how hard this was for me to be so close—for me to hear t he monsters thoughts and see his memories, memories of Beau mixed in with his less fortunate victims who no one could save now.

My breaching sped. I clenched the steering wheel.

 _Go, Edward,_ he told me gently. _I’ll make the rest of them safe. You go back to Beau._

It was exactly the right thing to say. His name was the only distraction that could mean anything to me now.

I left him in the car, and ran back to Forks in a straight line though the sleeping forest. It took less time than the first journey in the speeding car. It was just minutes later that I scaled the side of his house and slid his window out of my way.

I sighed silently with relief. Everything was just as it should be. Beau was safe in his bed, dreaming, his wet hair tangled around itself on the pillow.

But, unlike most nights, he was curled into a small ball with the covers stretched taut around his shoulders. Cold, I guessed. Before I could settled into my usual seat, he shivered in his sleep, and his lips trembled.

I thought for a brief moment, and then I eased out into the hallway, exploring another part of his house for the first time.

Charlie’s snores were loud and even. I could almost catch the edge of his dream. Something with the rush of water and patient expectation… fishing, maybe?

There, at the top of the stairs, was a promising looking cupboard. I opened it hopefully, and found what I was looking for. I selected the thickest blanket from the tiny linen closet, and took it back into Beau’s room. I would return it before he awoke, and no one would be the wiser.

Holding my breath, I cautiously spread the blanket over him; he didn’t react to the added weight. I returned to the rocking chair.

While I waited anxiously for him to warm up, I thought of Carlisle, wondering where he was now. I knew his plan would go smoothly—Alice had seen that.

Thinking of my father made me sigh—Carlisle gave me too much credit. I wished I was the person he thought me to be. That person, the one who deserved happiness, might hope to be worthy of this sleeping boy. How different things would be if I could be that Edward.

For a moment, the hag-faced fate I’d imagined, the one who sought Beau’s destruction, was replaced by the most foolish and reckless of angels. A guardian angel—something Carlisle’s version of me might have had. With a heedless smile on her lips, her sky-colored eyes full of mischief, the angel formed Beau in such a fashion that there was no way I could possibly overlook him. A ridiculously potent scent to demand my attention, a silent mind to enflame my curiosity, a quiet beauty to hold my eyes, a selfless soul to earn my awe. Leave out the natural sense of self-preservation—so that Beau could bear to be near me—and, finally, add a wide streak of appallingly bad luck.

With a careless laugh, the irresponsible angel propelled her fragile creation directly into my path, trusting blithely in my flawed morality to keep Beau alive.

In this vision, I was not Beau’s sentence; he was my reward.

I shook my head at the fantasy of the unthinking angel. She was not much better than the harpy. I could not think well of a higher power that would behave in such a dangerous and stupid manner. At least the ugly fate I could fight against.

And I had no angel. They were reserved for the good—for people like Beau. So where was his angel through all this? Who was watching over him?

I laughed silently, startled, as I realized that, just now, I was filling that role.

A vampire angel—there was a stretch.

After about a half hour, Beau relaxed out of the tight ball. His breathing got deeper and he started to murmur. I smiled, satisfied. It was a small thing, but at least he was sleeping more comfortably tonight because I was here.

“Edward,” he sighed, and he smiled, too.

I shoved tragedy aside for the moment, and let myself be happy again.


	11. Interrogations

CNN broke the story first.

I was glad it hit the news before I had to leave for school, anxious to her how the humans would phrase the account, and what amount of attention it would garner.

Luckily, it was a heavy news day. There was an earthquake in South America and a political kidnapping in the Middle East. So it ended up only earning a few seconds, a few sentences, and one grainy picture.

“Alonzo Christopher Wallace, suspected serial rapist and murderer wanted in the states of Texas and Oklahoma, was apprehended last night in Portland, Oregon thanks to an anonymous tip. Wallace was found unconscious in an alley early this morning, just a few yards from a police station. Officials are unable to tell us at this time whether he will be extradited to Houston or Oklahoma City to stand trial.”

The picture was unclear, a mug shot, and he’d had a thick beard at the time of the photograph. Even if Beau saw it, he would probably not recognize him. I hoped he wouldn’t; it would make him afraid needlessly.

“The coverage here in town will be light. It’s too far away to be considered of local interest,” Alice told me. “It was a good call to have Carlisle take him out of state.”

I nodded. Beau didn’t seem to watch much TV regardless, and I hoped his father didn’t pay much attention to news channels.

I’d done what I could. The monster no longer hunted, and I was not a murderer. Not recently, anyway. I’d been right to trust Carlisle, as much as I still wished the monster had not gotten off quite so easily. I caught myself hoping he would be extradited to Texas, where the death penalty was so popular…

No. That didn’t matter. I would put this behind me, and concentrate on what was most important.

I’d left Beau’s room less than an hour ago. I was already aching to see him again.

“Alice, do you mind—“

She cut me off. “Royal will drive. He’ll act put out, but you know he’ll enjoy the excuse to show off his car.” Alice trilled a laugh.

I grinned at her. “See you at school.”

Alice sighed, and my grin became a grimace.

 _I know, I know,_ she thought _. Not yet. I’ll wait until you’re ready for Beau to know me. You should know, thought, this isn’t just me being selfish. Beau’s going to like me, too._

I didn’t answer her as I hurried out the door. That was a different way of viewing the situation. Would Beau _want_ to know Alice? To have a vampire for a friend?

Knowing Beau… that idea probably wouldn’t bother him in the slightest.

I frowned to myself. What Beau wanted and what was best for Beau were two very separate things.

I started to feel uneasy as I parked my car in Beau’s driveway. The human adage said that things looked different in the morning—that things changed when you slept on them. Would I look different to Beau in the weak light of a foggy day? More sinister or less sinister than I had in the blackness of night? Had the truth sunk in while he slept? Would he finally be afraid?

His dreams had been peaceful, though, last night. When he’d spoken my name, time and time again, he’d smiled. More than once he’d murmured a plea for me to stay. Would that mean nothing today?

I waited nervously, listening to the sounds of him inside the house—the fast, stumbling footsteps on the stairs, the sharp rip of a tin foil wrapper, the contents of the refrigerator crashing against each other when the door slammed. It sounded like he was in a hurry? Anxious to get to school? The thought made me smile, hopeful again.

I looked at the clock. I supposed that—taking in account the velocity of his decrepit truck must limit him to—he _was_ running late.

Beau rushed out of the house, his book bag sliding off his shoulder, his hair a disheveled mess of curls. The thick green sweater he wore was not enough to keep his lean shoulders from hunching against the cold fog.

The long sweater was too big for him, unflattering. It masked his lean figure, turning his form into a shapeless jumble. I appreciated this almost as much as I wished that that he had worn something more like the deep blue shirt he’d worn last night… the fabric had clung to his skin in such an appealing way, cut low enough to reveal the mesmerizing way his collar bones curled away from the hollow beneath his throat. The blue had flowed like water along the subtle shape of his body…

It was better—essential—that I kept my thoughts far, far away from that shape, so I was grateful to the unbecoming sweater he wore. I couldn’t afford to make mistakes, and it would be a monumental mistake to dwell on the strange hungers that thoughts of his lips… his skin… his body… were shaking loose inside of me. Hungers that had evaded me for a hundred years. But I could not allow myself to think of touching him, because that was impossible.

I would break him.

Beau turned away from the door, in such a hurry that he nearly ran right by my car without noticing it.

Then he skidded to a stop, his knees locking like a startled colt’s. His bag slid further down his arm, and his eyes flew wide as they focused on the car.

I got out, taking no care to move at a human speed, and opened the passenger door for him. I would not try to deceive him anymore—when we were alone, at least, I would be myself.

He looked up at me, startled again as I seemingly materialized out of the fog. And then the surprise in his eyes changed to something else, and I was no longer afraid—or hopeful—that his feelings for me had changed in the course of the night. Warmth, wonder, fascination, all swimming in the molten silver of his eyes.

“Do you want a ride with me today?” I asked. Unlike dinner last night, I would let him choose. From now on, it must always be his choice.

“Yes, thank you,” he murmured, climbing into my car without hesitation.

Would it ever cease to thrill me, that I was the one he was saying yes to? I doubted it.

I flashed around the car, eager to join him. He showed no sign of being shocked by my sudden reappearance.

The happiness I felt when he sat beside me had no precedent. As much as I enjoyed the love and companionship of my family, despite the various entertainments and distractions the world had to offer, I had never been happy like this. Even knowing that it was wrong, that this couldn’t possibly end well, could not keep the smile from my face for long.

My jacket was folded over the headrest of his seat. I saw him eyeing it.

“I brought the jacket for you,” I told him. That was my excuse, had I needed to provide one, for showing up uninvited this morning. It was cold. He had no jacket. Surely this was an acceptable form of chivalry. “I didn’t want you to get sick or something.”

“I’m not quite that delicate,” he said, staring at my chest rather than my face, as if he were hesitant to meet my eyes. But he put the coat on before I had to resort to pleading or coaxing.

“Aren’t you?” I muttered to myself.

He stared out at the road as I accelerated toward the school. I could only stand the silence for a few seconds. I had to know what his thoughts were this morning. So much had changed between us since the last time the sun was up.

“What, no twenty questions today?” I asked, keeping it light again.

He smiled, seeming glad that I’d broached the subject. “Do my questions bother you?”

“Not as much as your reactions do,” I told him honestly, smiling in response to his smile.

His mouth turned down. “Do I react badly?”

“No, that’s not the problem. You take everything so coolly—it’s unnatural. It makes me wonder what you’re really thinking.” Of course, everything he did or didn’t do made me wonder that.

“I always tell you what I’m really thinking.”

“You edit.”

His teeth pressed into his lip again. He didn’t seem to notice when he did this—it was an unconscious response to tension. “Not enough.”

Just those words were enough to have my curiosity raging. What did he purposefully mean to keep from me?

“Enough to drive me insane,” I said.

He hesitated, and then whispered, “You don’t want to hear it.”

I had to think for a moment, run through our entire conversation last night, word for word, before I made the connection. Perhaps it took so much concentration because I couldn’t imagine anything I wouldn’t want him to say to me. And then—because the tone of his voice was the same as last night; there was suddenly pain there again—I remembered. Once, I had asked him not to speak his thoughts. _Never say that_ , I’d all but snarled at him. I had made him cry…

Was this what he kept from me? The depth of his feelings about me? That my being a monster didn’t matter to him, and that he thought it was too late for him to change his mind?

I was unable to speak, because the joy and pain were too strong for words, the conflict between them too wild to allow for a coherent response. It was silent in the car except for the steady rhythms of his heart and lungs.

“Where’s the rest of your family?” he asked suddenly.

I took a deep breath—registering the scent in the car with true pain for the first time; I was getting used to this, I realized with satisfaction—and forced myself to be casual again.

“They took Royal’s car.” I parked in the open spot next to the car in question. I hid my smile as I watched his eyes widen. “Ostentatious, isn’t it?”

“Um, wow. If he has _that_ , why does he ride with you?”

Royal would have enjoyed Beau’s reaction… if he were being objective about Beau, which probably wouldn’t happen.

“Like I said, it’s ostentatious. We _try_ to blend in.”

“You don’t succeed,” he told me, and then he laughed a carefree laugh.

The blithe, wholly untroubled sound of his laughter warmed my hollow chest even as it made my head swim with doubt.

“So why did Royal drive today if it’s more conspicuous?” he wondered.

“Hadn’t you noticed? I’m breaking _all_ the rules now.”

My answer should have been mildly frightening—so, of course, Beau smiled at it.

He didn’t wait for me to open his door, just like last night. I had to feign normality here at school—so I couldn’t move fast enough to prevent this—but I hoped he would get used to being treated with more courtesy, and get used to it soon.

I walked as close to him as I dared, watching carefully for any sign that my proximity upset him. Twice his hand twitched toward me and then he would snatch it back. It _looked_ like he wanted to touch me… My breath sped.

“Why do you have cars like that at all? If you’re looking for privacy?” he asked as we walked.

“An indulgence,” I admitted. “We all like to drive fast.”

“Figures,” he mumbled, rolling his eyes.

He didn’t look up to see my answering grin.

_Oh my god, oh my god. Yes! Go, Beau! You sly dog! You’ve been holding out on me, you ass!_

Jessica’s mental cheering interrupted my thoughts. She was waiting for Beau, taking refuge from the rain under the edge of the cafeteria’s roof, with Beau’s winter jacket over her arm. Her eyes were wide with excitement.

Beau noticed her, too, in the next moment, a faint pink touched his cheek when Beau registered Jessica’s expression. The thoughts in Jessica’s head _were_ fairly clear on her face.

“Hey, Jess. Thanks for remembering,” Beau greeted her. He reached out for the jacket and Jessica handed it to him wordlessly.

I should be polite to Beau’s friends, and after all, Jessica was starting to grow on me. “Good morning, Jessica.”

_Whoa…_

Jessica’s eyes popped even wider. It was strange and amusing… and, honestly, a bit embarrassing… to realize how much being near Beau had softened me. It seemed like no one was afraid of me anymore. If Emmett found out about this, he would be laughing for the next century.

“Er… hi,” Jessica mumbled, and her eyes flashed to Beau’s face, full of significance. “I guess I’ll see you in Trig.”

_You are so going to tell me everything. I’m not taking no for an answer. Details. I have to have details. Edward freaking CULLEN!! Oh my god!_

Beau’s mouth twitched. “Yeah, I’ll see you then.”

Jessica’s thoughts ran wild as she hurried to her first class, peeking back at us now and then.

 _The whole story. I’m not accepting anything less. Did they plan to meet up last night? Are they dating? How long? How could Beau keep this a secret? Why would he want to? It can’t be a casual thing—he has to be seriously into him. Is there any other option? I have to know! I can’t stand not knowing! I wonder if Beau’s made out with him? Oh, my god, that’s so hot! Ugh…_ Jessica’s thoughts were suddenly disjointed, and she let wordless fantasies swirl through her head. I quickly worked to block her speculations as her fantasies involving Beau and myself quickly became more and more… explicit.

It couldn’t be like that. And yet I… I wanted…

I resisted making the admission, even to myself. How many wrong ways would I want Beau in? Which one would end up killing him?

“What are you going to tell her?” I asked Beau.

“Hey!” he whispered fiercely. “I thought you couldn’t read my mind!”

“I can’t.” I stared at him, surprised, trying to make sense of his words. Ah—we must have been thinking the same thing at the same time. Hmm… I rather liked that. “However, I can read hers—she’ll be waiting to ambush you in class.”

Beau groaned, and then let the jacket slide off his shoulders. I didn’t realize that he was giving it back at first—I wouldn’t have asked for it; I would rather he kept it… a token—so I was too slow to offer him my help. He handed me the jacket, and put his arms through his own, without looking up to see that my hands were extended to assist. I frowned at that, and then controlled my expression before he noticed it.

“So what are you going to tell her?”

“A little help? What does she want to know?”

I smiled, and shook my head. I wanted to hear what he was thinking without a prompt. “That’s not fair.”

His eyes tightened. “No, you not sharing what you know—now _that’s_ not fair.”

Right—he didn’t like double standards.

We got to the door of his class—where I would have to leave him; I wondered idly if Ms. Cope would be more accommodating about a switch in the schedule of my English class… I made myself focus. I could be fair.

“She wants to know if we’re secretly dating,” I said slowly. “And she wants to know how you feel about me.”

His eyes were wide—not startled, but ingenious now. They were open to me, readable. He was playing innocent.

“Great,” he murmured. “What should I say?”

“Hmmm.” He always tried to make me give away more than he did. I pondered how to respond.

A wayward strand of his hair, slightly damp from the fog, fell forward onto his forehead. My eyes followed the curl down his forehead, following the line of his nose, to his full lips, where my eyes lingered…

I reached for the strand carefully, not touching his skin—the morning was chill enough without my touch—and smoothed it back into place on his head so that it wouldn’t distract me again. I remembered when Mike Newton had touched her his, and my jaw flexed at the memory. He had flinched away from his then. His reaction now was nothing the same; instead, there was a slight widening of his eyes, a rush of blood under his skin, and a sudden, uneven thumping of his heart.

I tried to hide my smile as I answered his question.

“I suppose you could say yes to the first… if you don’t mind, that is.” His choice, always his choice.

“I… I don’t mind,” he whispered. His heart had not found its normal rhythm yet.

“And as for her other question…” I couldn’t hide my smile now. “Well I’ll be listening to hear the answer to that one myself.”

Let Beau consider _that_. I held back my laugh as shock crossed his face.

“I’ll see you at lunch,” I said gently. I turned quickly before he could ask for any more answers. I had a difficult time not giving him whatever he asked for. And I wanted to hear _his_ thoughts, not mine.

As I paced away I was vaguely aware of the shocked and speculative thoughts that swirled around me—eyes bouncing back and forth between Beau’s face and my retreating figure. I paid them little attention. I couldn’t concentrate. It was hard enough to keep my feet moving at an acceptable speed as I crossed the soggy grass to my next class. I wanted to run—really run, so fast that I would disappear, so fast that it would feel like I was flying. Part of me was flying already.

I put the jacket on when I got to class, letting his fragrance swim thick around me. I would burn now—let the scent desensitize me—and then it would be easier to ignore it later, when I was with him again at lunch…

It was a good thing that my teachers no longer bothered to call on me. Today might have been the one day that they would have caught me out, unprepared and answerless. My mind was in so many places this morning; only my body was in the classroom.

Of course I was watching, Beau. That was becoming natural—as automatic as breathing. I heard his conversation with a demoralized Mike Newton. Beau quickly direction the conversation to Jessica, and I grinned so wide that Rob Sawyer, who sat at the desk to my right, flinched visibly and slid deeper into his seat, away from me.

 _Ugh. Creepy_.

Well, I hadn’t lost it entirely.

I was also monitoring Jessica loosely, watching her refine her questions for Beau. I could barely wait for fourth period, ten times as eager and anxious as the curious human girl who wanted fresh gossip.

And I was also listening to Angela Weber.

I had not forgotten the gratitude I felt to her—for thinking nothing but kind things toward Beau in the first place, and then for her help last night. So I waited through the morning, looking for something that she wanted. I assumed it would be easy; like any other human, there must be some bauble or toy she wanted particularly. Several, probably. I would deliver something anonymously and call us even.

But Angela proved almost as unaccommodating as Beau with his thoughts. She was oddly content for a teenager. Happy. Perhaps this was the reason for her unusual kindness—she was one of those rare people who had what they wanted and wanted what they had. If she wasn’t paying attention to her teachers and her notes, she was thinking of the twin little brothers she was taking to the beach this weekend—anticipating their excitement with an almost maternal pleasure. She cared for them often, but was not resentful of this fact… it was very sweet.

But not really helpful to me.

There had to be something he wanted. I would just have to keep looking. But later. It was time for Beau’s trig class with Jessica.

I wasn’t watching where I was going as I made my way to English. Jessica was already in her seat, both her feet tapping impatiently against the floor as she waited for Beau to arrive.

Conversely, once I settled into my assigned seat in the classroom, I became utterly still. I had to remind myself to fidget now and then. To keep up the charade. It was difficult, my thoughts were so focused on Jessica’s. I hoped she would pay attention, really try to read Beau’s face for me.

Jessica’s tapping intensified when Beau walked into the room.

_He looks… glum. Why? How could he not be over the moon right now? I have so many questions I can’t even begin…_

Beau’s face didn’t look glum, it looked reluctant. He was worried—he knew I would hear all of this. I smiled to myself.

 _“Tell me everything!”_ Jessica begged while Beau was still removing his jacket to hang it on the back of his seat. He was moving with deliberation, unwilling.

_Oh, it’s got to be good if he’s being so hesitant._

_“What do you want to know?”_ Beau stalled as he took his seat.

_“What happened last night?”_

_“He bought me dinner, and then he drove me home.”_

_And then? C’mon, Swan, there has to be more than that! He’s got to be hiding something._

_“How did you get home so fast?”_

I watched Beau roll his eyes at the skeptical Jessica.

_“He drives like a maniac. It was terrifying.”_

He smiled a tiny smile, and I laughed out loud, interrupting Mr. Mason’s announcements. I tried to turn my laugh into a cough, but no one was fooled. Mr. Mason shot me an irritated look, but I didn’t even bother to listen to the thought behind it. I was hearing Jessica.

_Huh. Sounds like he’s telling the truth. Why is he making me pull this out of him, word by word? I would be bragging at the top of my lungs if it were me._

_“Was it like a date—did you tell him to meet your there?”_

Jessica watched surprise cross Beau’s expression, and was disappointed at how genuine it seemed.

 _“No—I was very surprised to see him there,”_ Beau told her.

_What is going on?? “But he picked you up for school today?” There has to be more to the story—Oh, my god, I wonder… “Or… did he stay the night?”_

Beau’s face went crimson. _“Jess!”_ He hissed, his embarrassment plain on his face.

_“Well?” Please say yes, please say yes._

_“Of course he didn’t.”_ Beau insisted, though it wasn’t true. At least not how Jessica meant. Beau continued, _“Do you think I could sneak him past my dad?”_

I had a rather easy time sneaking past Chief Swan, actually.

 _Okay, so maybe it’s not that, but still…_ Jessica shrugged, grinning widely.

 _“He picked me up this morning. It was also a surprise.”_ Beau assured her.

 _“Well, are you going out again?”_ Jessica probed.

_“He offered to drive me to Seattle Saturday because he thinks my truck isn’t up to it—does that count?”_

_Ooh, this just got interesting. There must be something there on his side, for sure. Beau, you lucky boy!_

_“Yes.”_ Jessica answered Beau’s question.

 _“Well, then,”_ Beau concluded. _“Yes.”_

 _“W-o-w…”_ Jessica overdramatically stretched out the word, _“Edward Cullen.”_ _Beau has to like him back, he has to! This is major._

 _“I know,”_ Beau sighed.

The tone of his voice encouraged Jessica. _Finally—he sounds like he gets it! I mean, seriously, Beau!_

 _“Wait!”_ Jessica said, suddenly remembering her most vital question. _“He didn’t stay the night, but has he kissed you?” Please say yes. And then describe every second._

 _“No,”_ Beau mumbled, and then he looked down at his hands, his face falling.

_Damn. But the way he looks at Beau… Poor Beau, he looks so bummed._

I frowned. Beau did look upset about something, but it couldn’t be disappointment like Jessica assumed. Beau couldn’t want that. Not knowing what he knew. He couldn’t want to be that close to my _teeth_. For all he knew, I had fangs.

I shuddered.

 _“But…”_ Beau said suddenly, looking back at Jessica with a spark in his eyes. _“I think he wanted to.”_

The subtle excitement in Beau’s eyes… No, that’s impossible. Of course, he could read my own desires—he missed nothing. But, surely, he didn’t actually _want_ me to… Did he?

Jessica’s mind was an explosion of excitement. _“Do you think Saturday…?”_ She prodded.

Beau looked frustrated again as he said, _“I don’t know. I doubt it.”_

_He doubts it? No way! They have to kiss! They have to! It would be so hot!_

Was it because I was watching all this through the filter of Jessica’s perceptions that it seemed like Jessica was right? That it would be… a good thing?

For a half-second I was distracted by the idea, the impossibility of what it would be like to kiss Beau. My lips to his lips, cold stone to warm, yielding silk…

And then he dies.

I shook my head, wincing, and made myself pay attention.

_“So what did you talk about?” Did you talk to him, or did you make him drag every ounce of information out of you like this?_

I smiled ruefully. Jessica wasn’t far off.

_“I don’t know, Jess, lots of stuff.”_

Oh, yes, a lot. I smiled wider.

_Oh, c’MON. “Please, Beau! Give me some details.”_

Beau deliberated for a moment.

_“Well… okay, I’ve got one. You should have seen the server flirting with him—it was over the top. But Edward didn’t pay any attention to him at all.”_

What a strange detail to share. I was surprised Beau had even noticed. It seemed a very inconsequential thing.

_Ooh, good… “That’s a good sign. Was he hot?”_

Hmm. Jessica thought more of it than I did. I wonder why?

 _“Yeah,”_ Beau told her. _“And probably nineteen or twenty.”_

Jessica was momentarily distracted by a memory of Mike on her date Monday night—Mike being a little too friendly with a waitress who Jessica did not consider pretty at all. She shoved the memory away and returned, stifling her irritation, to her quest for details.

_“Even better. He must like you.”_

_“I think so,”_ Beau said slowly, and I was on the edge of my seat, my body rigidly still. _“But it’s hard to tell. He’s always so cryptic.”_

I must not have been as transparently obvious and out of control as I’d thought. Still… observant as he was… How could he not realize that I was in love with him? I sifted through our conversation, almost surprised that I hadn’t said the words out loud. It had felt like that knowledge had been the subtext of every word between us.

 _Wow. How do you sit there across from a male model and make conversation? “I don’t know how you’re brave enough to be alone with him,”_ Jessica said.

Shock flashed across Beau’s face. _“What? Why?”_

_Weird reaction. What does he think I meant? “He’s so…” What’s the right word? “Intimidating. I wouldn’t know what to say to him.” I couldn’t even speak English to him today, and all he said was good morning. I must have sounded like such an idiot._

Beau smiled. _“Honestly, I don’t always know what to say when I’m around him.”_

He must be trying to make Jessica feel better. He was almost unnaturally self-possessed when we were together.

 _“Oh well,”_ Jessica sighed. _“He is unbelievably gorgeous.”_

Beau’s face suddenly changed. His eyes flashed the same way they did when he resented some injustice. Jessica didn’t process the change in his expression.

 _“There’s a lot more to him than that,”_ Beau insisted.

_Oooh. Now we’re getting somewhere. “Really? Like what?”_

Beau gnawed his lip for a moment. _“I can’t explain it right,”_ he finally said. _“But he’s more unbelievable behind the face_.” He looked away from Jessica, his eyes slightly unfocused as if he was staring at something very far away.

The feeling I felt now was loosely similar to how it felt when Carlisle or Esme praised me beyond what I deserved. Similar, but more intense, more consuming.

 _If what’s behind is even half as good as his face then Beau is really in trouble! I can’t imagine anything better than that face, though! “Is that possible?”_ Jessica giggled.

Beau didn’t turn. He continued to stare into the distance, ignoring Jessica.

_A normal person would be gloating. Maybe if I keep the questions simple he’ll give me something… “So you like him, then?”_

I was rigid again.

Beau didn’t look at Jessica. _“Yes.”_

_“I mean, do you really like him?”_

_“Yes.”_

_Look at that blush!_

I was.

 _“How much do you like him?”_ Jessica demanded.

The English room could have gone up in flames and I wouldn’t have noticed.

Beau’s face was bright red now—I could almost feel the heat from the mental picture.

 _“Too much,”_ he whispered. _“More than he likes me. But I don’t see how I can help that.”_

_Shoot! What did Mr. Varner just ask? “Um—which number, Mr. Varner?”_

It was good that Jessica could no longer quiz Beau. I needed a minute.

What on earth was that boy thinking _now_? _More than he likes me?_ How did he come up with _that_? _But I don’t see how I can help that?_ What was that supposed to mean? I couldn’t fit a rational explanation to the words. They were practically senseless.

It seemed like I couldn’t take anything for granted. Obvious things, things that made perfect sense, somehow got twisted up and turned backwards in that bizarre brain of his. _More than he likes me_? Maybe I shouldn’t rule out the institution just yet.

I glared at the clock, gritting my teeth. How could mere minutes feel so impossibly long to an immortal? Where was my perspective?

My jaw was tight throughout Mr. Varner’s entire trigonometry lesson. I heard more of that than the lecture in my own class. Beau and Jessica didn’t speak again, but Jessica peeked at Beau several times, and once his face was brilliant scarlet again for no apparent reason.

Lunch couldn’t come fast enough.

I wasn’t sure if Jessica could get some of the answers I was waiting for when the class was over, but Beau was quicker than she was.

 _“In English, Mike asked me if you said anything about Monday night,”_ Beau said, a smile pulling up at the corners of his lips. I understood this for what it was—offence as the best defense.

 _Mike asked about me?_ Joy made Jessica’s mind suddenly even more chaotic than it usually was. _“You’re kidding! What did you say?”_

_“I told him you said you had a lot o fun—he looked pleased.”_

_“Tell me exactly what he said, and your exact answer!”_

That was all I was going to get from Jessica today, clearly. Beau was smiling like he was thinking the same thing. Like he’d won the round.

Well, lunch would be another story. I would have better success getting answers out of him than Jessica, I would make sure of that.

I could hardly bear to check in occasionally with Jessica through the fourth hour. I had no patience for her obsessive thoughts of Mike Newton. I’d had more than enough of him in the last two weeks. He was lucky to be alive.

I moved apathetically though gym class with Alice, the way we always moved when it came to physical activity with humans. She was my teammate, naturally. It was the first day of badminton. I sighed with boredom, swinging the racket in slow motion to tap the birdie back to the other side. Logan Mallory was on the other team; he missed. Alice was twirling racket like a baton, staring at the ceiling.

We all hated gym, Emmett especially. Throwing games was an affront to his personal philosophy. Gym seemed worse today than usual—I felt just as irritated as Emmett always did.

Before my head could explode with impatience, Coach Clapp called the games and sent us out early. I was ridiculously grateful that he’d skipped breakfast—a fresh attempt to diet—and the consequent hunger had him in a hurry to leave campus to find a greasy lunch somewhere. He promised himself he would start over tomorrow…

This gave me enough time to get to the math building before Beau’s class ended.

 _Enjoy yourself,_ Alice thought as she headed off to meet Jasper. _Just a few days more to be patient. I suppose you won’t say hi to Beau for me, will you?_

I shook my head, exasperated. Were all psychics so smug?

_Just so you know, it’s going to be sunny on both sides of the sound this weekend. You might want to rearrange your plans._

I sighed as I continued in the opposite direction. Smug, but definitely useful.

I leaned against the wall by the door, waiting. I was close enough that I could hear Jessica’s voice through the bricks as well as her thoughts.

“You’re not sitting with us today, are you? _He looks so excited! It’s so cute! I bet there’s tons he didn’t tell me_.

“I don’t _think_ so,” Beau answered, oddly unsure.

Hadn’t I promised to spend lunch with him? What was he _thinking_?

They came out of class together, and both of their eyes widened when they saw me. Jessica giggled and poked Beau in the ribs.

_Nice! Oh, yeah, there’s more going on here than he’s telling me. Maybe I’ll call him tonight… Unless he’s busy… Ha! Beau is the luckiest boy in the whole world, I swear._

“See you later, Beau.”

Beau walked toward me, pausing a step away, still unsure. His skin was pink across his cheekbones.

I knew him well enough now to be sure that there was no fear behind his hesitation. Apparently, this was about some gulf he imagined between his feelings and mine. _More than he likes me._ Absurd!

“Hello,” I said, my voice a tad curt.

His face got brighter. “Hi.”

He didn’t seem inclined to say anything else, so I led the way to the cafeteria and he walked silently beside me.

The jacket had worked—his scent was not the blow it usually was. It was just an intensification of the pain I already felt. I could ignore it more easily than I once would have believed possible.

Beau was restless as we waited in line, toying absently with the zipper on his jacket and shifting nervously from foot to foot. He glanced at me often, but whenever he met my gaze, he looked down as if he were embarrassed. Was this because so many people were staring at us? Maybe he could hear the loud whispers—the gossip was verbal as well as mental today.

Or maybe he realized, from my expression, that he was in trouble.

He didn’t say anything until I was assembling his lunch. I didn’t know what he liked—not yet—so I grabbed one of everything.

“What are you doing?” he objected in a low voice. “You’re not getting all that for me?”

I shook my head, and shoved the tray up to the register. “Half is for me, of course.”

He raised one eyebrow skeptically, but said nothing more as I paid for the food and escorted him to the table we’d sat at last week before his disastrous experience with blood typing. It seemed like much more than a few days. Everything was different now.

He sat across from me again. I pushed the tray toward him.

“Take whatever you want,” I encouraged.

He picked up an apple and twisted it in his hands, a speculative look on his face.

“I’m curious.”

What a surprise.

“What would you do if someone dared you to eat food?” he continued in a low voice that wouldn’t carry to human ears. Immortal ears were another matter, if those ears were paying attention. I probably should have mentioned something to them earlier…

“You’re always curious,” I complained. Oh well. It wasn’t like I hadn’t had to eat before. It was part of the charade. An unpleasant part.

I reached for the apple in his hands, and held his eyes while I brought it to my mouth and bit off a small bite of it. It was slimy and chunky and repulsive as any other human food. I chewed swiftly and swallowed, trying to keep the grimace off my face. The gob of food moved slowly and uncomfortably down my throat. I sighed as I thought of how I would have to choke it back up later. Disgusting.

Beau’s expression was shocked. Impressed.

I wanted to roll my eyes. Of course we would have perfected such deceptions.

“If someone dared you to eat dirt, you could, couldn’t you?”

His nose wrinkled and he smiled. “I did once… on a dare. It wasn’t so bad.”

I laughed. “I suppose I’m not surprised.”

 _They look comfortable together, don’t they? Good body language. I’ll give Beau my take later. Edward’s leaning toward him just the way he should, if he’s interested. He looks interested. He looks… perfect._ Jessica sighed. _God, they’re gonna be such a hot couple._

I met Jessica’s curious eyes, and she looked away nervously, giggling to the girl next to her.

_I wonder if Mike and I make such an attractive couple? Doubtful…_

“Jessica’s analyzing everything I do,” I informed Beau. “She’ll break it down for you later.”

I handed the apple back to him, wondering how best to begin. My former frustration flared as the words repeated in my head: _More than he likes me. But I don’t see how I can help that._

He took a bite from the apple. It amazed me how trusting he was. Of course, he didn’t know that I was venomous—not that sharing food would hurt him. Still, I expected him to treat me differently. As something other. He never did—at least not in a negative way…

I would start off gently.

“So the server was attractive, was he?”

He raised the eyebrow again. “He was hot. You really didn’t notice?”

As if anyone could hope to capture my attention from Beau. Absurd, again.

“No, I wasn’t paying attention to _him_.” I was more distracted by deep cut of his shirt… the way it clung to his chest…

Good thing he’d worn that ugly sweater today.

“Poor guy,” Beau said, smiling.

He liked that I hadn’t found the server interesting in any way. I could understand that. How many times had I imagined crippling Mike Newton in the biology room?

He couldn’t honestly believe that his human feelings, the fruition of seventeen short mortal years, could be stronger than the immortal passions that had been building up in me for over a century.

“Something you said to Jessica…” I couldn’t keep my voice casual. “Well, it bothers me.”

He was immediately defensive. “I’m not surprised you heard something you didn’t like. You shouldn’t be eavesdropping.”

How did that saying go? Eavesdroppers never hear good of themselves?

“I warned you I would be listening.”

“And I warned you that you didn’t want to know everything I was thinking.”

Ah, he was thinking of when I’d made him cry. Remorse made my voice thicker. “You did. You aren’t precisely right, though. I do want to know what you’re thinking—everything. I just wish… that you wouldn’t be thinking some things.”

More half-lies. I knew I _shouldn’t_ want him to care about me. But I did. Of course I did.

“That’s quite a distinction,” he dead-panned, raising an eyebrow at me.

“But that’s not really the point at the moment.”

“Then what is?”

He leaned toward me, his hand cupped lightly around his throat. It drew my eye—distracted me. How soft that skin must feel…

 _Focus_ , I commanded myself.

“Do you truly believe that you care more for me than I do for you?” I asked. The questioned sounded ridiculous to me, like the words were scrambled.

His eyes were wide, his breathing stopped. Then he looked away, blinking quickly.

“You’re doing it again,” he murmured.

“What?”

“Dazzling me,” he admitted, meeting my eyes warily.

“Oh.” Hmm. I wasn’t quite sure what to do about that. Nor was I sure that I didn’t _want_ to dazzle him. I was still thrilled that I _could_. But it wasn’t helping the progression of the conversation.

“It’s not your fault,” he sighed. “You can’t help it.”

“Are you going to answer my question?” I demanded.

He stared at the table. “Yes.”

“Yes, you are going to answer, or yes, you really think that?” I asked impatiently.

“Yes, I really think that,” he said without looking up. There was faint undertone of sadness in his voice. He blushed again, and his teeth moved unconsciously to worry his lip.

Abruptly, I realized that this was very hard for him to admit, because he truly believed it. And I was no better than that coward, Mike, asking for him to confirm his feelings before I’d confirmed my own. It didn’t matter that I felt I’d made my side abundantly clear. It hadn’t gotten through to him, and so I had no excuse.

“You’re wrong, Beau,” I promised. He must hear the tenderness in my voice.

Beau looked up to me, his eyes opaque, giving nothing away. You can’t know that,” he whispered.

He thought that I was underestimating his feelings because I couldn’t hear his thoughts. But, in truth, the problem was that he was underestimating _mine_.

“What makes you think so?” I wondered.

He stared back at me, the furrow between his brows, biting his lips. For the millionth time, I wished desperately that I could just _hear_ him.

I was about to beg him to tell me what thought he was struggling with, but he held up a finger to keep me from speaking.

“Let me think,” he requested.

As long as he was simply organizing his thoughts, I could be patient.

Or I could pretend to be.

He pressed his hands together, twining and untwining his slender fingers. He was watching his hands as if they belonged to someone else while he spoke.

“Well, aside from the obvious,” he murmured. “Sometimes… I can’t be sure— _I_ don’t know how to read minds—but sometimes it seems like you’re tryin to say goodbye when you’re saying something else.” He didn’t look up.

He’d caught that, had he? Did he realize that it was only weakness and selfishness that kept me here? Did he think less of me for that?

“Perceptive,” I breathed, and then watched in horror as pain twisted his expression. I hurried to contradict his assumption. “That’s exactly why you’re wrong, though—“ I began, and then I paused, remembering the first words of his explanation. They bothered me, thought I wasn’t sure I understood exactly. “What do you mean, ‘the obvious’?”

“Well, I mean…,” and he sighed, “I’m absolutely ordinary. There’s nothing particularly special about me. I’m not the only one in this school who finds you attractive, I’m not exceptionally talented at anything, I’m as interesting as the next guy, but I’m just ordinary—average. Aside from some unfortunate near-death experiences and a talent for tripping over my own feet, I’m not… _special.”_

He thought he was ordinary? He thought that I was somehow preferable to him? In whose estimation? Silly, narrow-minded, blind humans like the ones surrounding us now? How could he not realize that he was the most beautiful… most exquisite… those words weren’t even enough.

And he had no idea.

“You don’t see yourself very clearly, you now. I’ll admit you are correct about the bad things…” I laughed humorlessly. I did not find the evil fate who haunted him comical. The clumsiness, however, was sort of funny. Endearing. Would he believe me if I told him he was beautiful, inside and out? I didn’t know how to show him. “But you don’t see how fascinating you really are?”

Fascinating and captivating, and despite the interest of so many in this school, he didn’t want any of them.

I was the one he said yes to.

My smile must have been smug.

His face was blank with surprise. He blinked a few times. “I don’t believe that,” he mumbled.

“Trust me just this once—you are the opposite of ordinary.”

His existence alone was excuse enough to justify the creation of the entire world.

“Is that true?” His expression was suddenly fiercely serious. “Or are you just fascinated with me because I’m the one person whose mind you can’t read?”

I was shocked. Horrified that he could possibly think that I wasn’t completely enamored with every brilliant facet of him.

“I’ll admit it does frustrate me that I can’t read your mind,” I wanted to explain the depth of my feelings in an eloquent way, but I couldn’t hold back my emotions about him. The words came out in a torrent. “But believe me, Beau, you are so much more complicated than you give yourself credit for. You are intelligent and perceptive, you’re remarkably mature. You see those around you in a way most simply don’t. You see the world in a way most are unable.” I sighed, past all secrets, relinquishing myself to complete honesty, “When I realized I couldn’t read your mind I began searching everyone else’s minds to find out as much about you as I could. Everything I saw only made me sure that you are… one of a kind.” I paused, and took him in—his unique, subtle beauty. “And all those words are not enough to describe why you are anything but ordinary.”

I stared at him, hoping he finally understood me, hoping that he could see what I saw. His face was bright red, he sat, unspeaking. His heart beating erratically in his chest.

He wasn’t used to compliments, I could see that. Another thing he would just _have_ to get used. He flushed deeper, and changed the subject. “But… why are you always trying to say goodbye? I’m not saying goodbye.”

“Don’t you see? That’s what proves me right. Don’t you see how much it hurts me to say goodbye to you? Even if just for a night? I care the most, because if I can do it…” Would I ever be unselfish enough to do the right thing? I shook my head in despair. I would have to find the strength. He deserved a life. Not what Alice had seen coming for him. “If leaving is the right thing to do, then I’ll hurt myself to keep from hurting you, to keep you safe.”

As I said the words, I willed them to be true.

He glared at me. Somehow, my words had upset him. “And you don’t think I wouldn’t do the same?” He demanded, angrily.

So angry—so soft and so fragile. How could he ever hurt anyone? “You’d never have to make the choice,” I told him, depressed anew by the wide difference between us.

He stared at me, concern replacing the anger in his eyes and bringing out the little pucker between them.

There was something truly wrong with the order of the universe if someone so good and so breakable did not merit a guardian angel to keep him out of trouble.

 _Well,_ I thought with dark humor, _at least he has a guardian vampire._

I smiled. How I loved my excuse to stay. “Of course, keeping you safe is beginning to feel like a full-time occupation that requires my constant presence.”

He smiled, too. “No one has tried to do away with me today,” he said lightly, and then his face turned speculative for half a second before his eyes went opaque again.

“Yet,” I added dryly.

“Yes,” he agreed to my surprise. I’d expected him to deny any need for protection. “Though I think maybe you’re just looking for an excuse to be around me.”

His voice was teasing, but he wasn’t far off from the truth, really.

He turned bright red and his eyes fell away from mine.

 _How could he? That selfish jackass! How could he do this to us?_ Royal’s piercing mental shriek broke through my concentration.

“Easy, Roy,” I heard Emmett whisper from across the cafeteria. His arm was around Royal’s shoulders, holding him tight into his side—restraining him.

 _Sorry, Edward,_ Alice thought guiltily. _He could tell that Beau knew too much from your conversation… and, well, it would have been worse if I hadn’t told him the truth right away. Trust me on that._

I winced at the mental picture that followed, at what would have happened if I’d told Royal that Beau knew I was a vampire at home, where Royal didn’t have a façade to keep up. I’d have to hide my Aston Martin somewhere out of state if he didn’t calm down by the time school was over. The sight of my favorite car, mangled and burning, was upsetting—though I knew I’d earned the retribution.

Jasper was not much happier.

I’d deal with the others later. I only had so much time allotted to be with Beau, and I wasn’t going to waste it. And hearing Alice had reminded me that I had some business to attend to.

“I have another question for you,” I said, tuning out Royal’s mental hysterics and rearranging my features to a casual smile.

“Sure,” Beau said, looking back at me with a smile.

“Do you really need to go to Seattle this Saturday, or was that just an excuse to get out of saying no to all your admirers?”

He grimaced at me. “You know, I haven’t forgiven you for the Tyler thing yet. It’s your fault that he’s deluded himself into thinking he’s taking me to prom.”

“Oh, he would have found a chance to ask you without me—I just really wanted to watch your face.”

I laughed now, remembering his aghast expression. Nothing I’d ever told him about my own dark story had ever made him look so horrified. The truth didn’t frighten him. He wanted to be with me. Mind-boggling.

“If I asked you, would you have turned _me_ down?”

“I don’t think I’ll tell you,” he said, his voice short. “That’s my revenge.”

I started laughing again at the subtle genius of him. Of course that would be the perfect revenge.

“Oh, you are cruel, aren’t you?” I smiled at him.

“Besides,” he continued. “As you like to point out; I have coordination issues. I’m a terrible dancer.”

“That wouldn’t be a problem. It’s all in the leading.”

For a brief fraction of a second, I was overwhelmed by the idea of holding him in my arms at a dance—where he would surely wear something becoming and flattering rather than this hideous sweater.

With perfect clarity, I remembered how his body had felt under mine after I’d thrown him out of the way of the oncoming van. Stronger than the panic or the desperation or the chagrin, I could remember the sensation. He’d been so warmed and so soft, fitting easily into my own stone shape.

I wrenched myself back from the memory.

“But you never told me—“ I said quickly, preventing him from arguing with me about his clumsiness, as he clearly intended to do. “Are you resolved on going to Seattle, or do you mind if we do something different?’

“I’m open to alternatives,” Beau said. “But I do have a favor to ask.”

A qualified yes. What would he want from me?

“What?”

“Can I drive?”

Was this his idea of humor? “Why?”

“Well, mostly because when I told Charlie I was going to Seattle, he specifically asked if I was going alone and, at the time, I was. If he asked again, I probably wouldn’t lie, but I don’t think he _will_ ask again, and leaving my truck at home would just bring up the subject unnecessarily. And also, if I’m being brutally honest here, your driving frightens me.”

I rolled my eyes at him. “Of all the things that could frighten you, you worry about my driving.” Truly, his brain worked backwards. I shook my head, disgusted.

 _Edward_ , Alice called urgently.

Suddenly I was staring into a bright circle of sunlight, caught up in one of Alice’s visions.

It was a place I knew well, the place I’d just considered taking Beau—a little meadow where no one ever went beside myself. A quiet, pretty place where I could count on being alone—far enough for any trail or human habitation that even my mind could have peace and quiet.

Alice recognized it, too, because she had seen me there not so long ago in another vision—one of those flickering, indistinct visions that Alice had shown me the morning I’d saved Beau from the van.

In that flickering vision, I hadn’t been alone. And now it was clear—Beau was with me there. So I _was_ brave enough. He stared at me, rainbow flames dancing across his face, his eyes fathomless.

 _It’s the same place_ , Alice thought, her mind full of a horror that did not match the vision. Tension, perhaps, but horror? What did she mean, _the same place_?

And then I saw it.

 _Edward!_ Alice protested shrilly. _I love him, Edward!_

I shut her out viciously.

She didn’t love Beau the way I did. Her vision was impossible. Wrong. She was blinded somehow, seeing impossibilities.

Not even half a second had passed. Beau was looking curiously at my face, waiting for me to approve his request. Had he seen the flash of dread, or had it been too quick for him?

I focused on him, on our unfinished conversation, pushing Alice and her flawed, lying visions far away from my thoughts. They didn’t deserve my attention.

“Won’t you tell your father that you’re spending the day with me?” I asked, darkness seeping into my voice.

I shoved at the visions again, trying to push them farther away, to keep them from flickering though my head.

“With Charlie, less is always more,” Beau said, certain of this fact. “Where are we going anyway?”

Alice was wrong. Dead wrong. There was no chance of that. And it was just an old vision, invalid now. Things had changed.

“The weather will be nice,” I told him slowly, fighting the panic indecision. Alice was wrong. I would continue as if I hadn’t heard or seen anything. “So I’ll be staying out of the public eye… and you can stay with me, if you’d like to.”

Beau caught the significance at once; his eyes were bright and eager. “And you’ll show me what you meant, about the sun?”

Maybe, like so many times before, his reaction would be the opposite of what I expected. I smiled at that possibility, struggling to return to the lighter moment. “Yes. But…” He hadn’t said yes. “If you don’t want to be… alone with me, I’d still rather you didn’t go to Seattle by yourself. I shudder to think of the trouble you could find in a city that size.”

His lips pressed together; he was offended.

“Phoenix is three times bigger than Seattle—just in population. In physical size—“

“But apparently your number wasn’t up in Phoenix,” I said, cutting off his justifications. “So I’d rather you stayed with me.”

He could stay forever and it would not be long enough.

I shouldn’t think that way. We didn’t have forever. The passing seconds counted more than they ever had before; each second changed him while I remained untouched.

“Again,” He smiled. “I think you’re just trying to make excuses to be together.”

A guilty smile spread across my lips.

“And, as it happens, I don’t mind being alone with you,” he said.

No—because his instincts were backwards.

“I know.” I sighed. “You should tell Charlie, though.”

“Why in the world would I do that?” he asked, sounding perplexed.

I glared at him, the visions I couldn’t quite manage to repress swirling sickeningly through my head.

“To give me some small incentive to bring you back,” I hissed. He should give me that much—one witness to compel me to be cautious.

Why had Alice forced this knowledge on me now? I exhaled and looked away, fuming.

I scowled at Alice, who met my glare with a warning glance. Beside her, Royal was glowering furiously, but I couldn’t have cared less. Let him destroy the damn car. It was just a stupid toy.

“You should learn to control your temper.”

My head snapped back to Beau, unable to hide my surprise.

“I beg your pardon?” The same surprise was readily apparent in my voice, as well.

“You should learn to control your temper,” he repeated with an earnest edge to his voice.

What on earth was he talking about? My temper? There was nothing wrong with my temper! I was perfectly even-tempered! I… I realized even in my frustration that my temper was, in fact, not quite in control. While my family would occasionally think about my temper negatively from time to time no one had ever even thought to _actually_ bring it up and _say_ something to me. I laughed as I looked at this human boy who feared nothing.

“You really are remarkable, Beau.”

“Let’s talk about something else,” he stammered, blushing.

I watched this sweet, strange boy, wondering how he could manage to be so remarkable. Why wouldn’t he just see me for the monster I was?

“What do you want to talk about?”

His eyes darted to the left and then the right, as if checking to make sure there were no eavesdroppers. He must be planning to introduce another myth-related topic. His eyes froze for a second and his body stiffened, and then he looked back to me.

“Why did you go to that Goat Rocks place last weekend… to hunt? Charlie said it wasn’t a good place to hike, because of bears.”

So beautifully oblivious. I stared at him, raising one eyebrow.

“Bears?” he gasped.

I smiled wryly, watching that sink in. Would this make him take me seriously? Would anything?

He pulled his expression together. “You know, bears are not in season,” he said sternly, narrowing his eyes.

“If you read carefully, the laws only cover hunting with weapons.”

He lost control over his face again for a moment. His lips fell open.

“Bears?” he said again, a tentative question this time rather than a gasp a shock.

“Grizzly is Emmett’s favorite.”

I watched his eyes, seeing this settle in.

“Hmmm,” he murmured. He took another bite of the apple, looking down. He chewed thoughtfully, and then took a drink.

“So,” he said, finally looking up. “What’s your favorite?”

I supposed I should have expected something like that, but I hadn’t. Beau was always interesting, at the very least.

“Mountain lion,” I answered brusquely.

“Ah,” he said in a neutral tone. His heartbeat continued steady and even, as if we were discussing a favorite restaurant.

Fine, then. If he wanted to ask like this was nothing unusual…

 “Of course, we have to be careful not to impact the environment with injudicious hunting. We try to focus on areas with an overpopulation of predators—ranging as far away as we need. There’s always plenty of deer and elk here, and they’ll do, but here’s the fun in that?”

He listened with a politely interested expression, as if I were a teacher giving a lecture. I had to smile.

“Where indeed,” he murmured calmly, taking another bite of his apple.

“Early spring is Emmett’s favorite bear season,” I said, continuing with the lecture. “They’re just coming out of hibernation, so they’re more irritable.”

Seventy years later, and he still hadn’t gotten over losing that first match.

“Nothing more fun than an irritated grizzly bear,” Beau agreed, nodding solemnly.

I couldn’t hold back a chuckle as I shook my head at his illogical calm. It had to be put on. “Tell me what you’re really thinking, please.”

“Honestly, I’m trying to picture it—but I can’t,” he said, the crease appearing between his eyes. “How do you hunt a bear without weapons?”

“Oh, we have weapons,” I told him, and then flashed him with a wide smile. I expected him to recoil, but he was very still, watching me. “Just not the kind they consider when writing hunting laws. If you’ve ever seen a bear attack on television, you should be able to visualize Emmett hunting.”

He glanced toward the table where the others sat, and shuddered.

Finally. And then I laughed at myself, because I knew part of me was wishing he would stay oblivious.

“Don’t let Royal catch you staring.” I teased, unable to decide if I was trying to lighten the mood or give him some healthy fear. “He’s prone to jealousy.”

An understatement if ever there was one.

His gray eyes were wide and deep as he stared at me now. “Are you like a bear, too?” he asked in an almost-whisper.

“More like the lion, or so they tell me,” I told him, striving to sound detached again. “Perhaps our preferences are indicative.

His lips pulled up a tiny bit at the corners. “Perhaps,” he repeated. And then his head leaned to the side, and curiosity was suddenly clear in his eyes. “Is that something I might get to see?”

I didn’t need pictures from Alice to illustrate this horror—my imagination was quite enough.

“Absolutely not,” I snarled at him.

He jerked away from me, his eyes bewildered and frightened.

“Temper, Edward!” His voice was sharp, and his eyes simmered.

I leaned back in my chair and folded my arms across my chest. He was never going to see, was he? He wouldn’t do one thing to help me keep him alive.

“So, what? Too scary for me?” he asked, his voice even. His heart, however, was still moving in double time.

“If that were it, I would take you out tonight,” I retorted through my teeth. “You _need_ a healthy dose of fear. Nothing could be more beneficial for you.”

“Then why?” he pressed, undeterred.

I glared at him blackly, waiting for him to be afraid. _I_ was afraid. I could imagine only too clearly having Beau near when I hunted…

But our hour was up.

“Later,” I sighed, and rose to my feet. “We’re going to be late.”

He looked around himself, disoriented, like he’d forgotten we were at lunch. Like he’d forgotten we were even at school—surprised that we were not alone in some private place. I understood that feeling exactly. It was hard to remember the rest of the world when I was with him.

He got up quickly, bobbling once, and threw his bag over his shoulder.

“Later, then,” he said, and I could see the determination in the set of his mouth; he would hold me to that.


	12. Complications

Beau and I walked silently to Biology. I was trying to focus myself on the moment, on the boy beside me, on what was real and solid, on anything that would keep Alice’s deceitful, meaningless visions out of my head.

We passed Angela Weber, lingering on the sidewalk, discussing an assignment with a boy from her Trigonometry class. I scanned her thoughts perfunctorily, expecting more disappointment, only to be surprised by their wistful tenor.

Ah, so there _was_ something Angela wanted. Unfortunately, it wasn’t something that could be easily gift-wrapped.

I felt strangely comforted for a moment, hearing Angela’s hopeless yearning. A sense of kinship that Angela would never know about passed through me, and I was, in that second, at one with the kind human girl.

It was oddly consoling to know that I wasn’t the only one living out a tragic love story. Heartbreak was everywhere.

In the next second, I was abruptly and thoroughly irritated. Because Angela’s story didn’t _have_ to be tragic. She was human and he was human and the difference that seemed so insurmountable in her head was ridiculous, truly ridiculous compared to my own situation. There was no _point_ in her broken heart. What a wasteful sadness, when there was no valid reason for her not to be with the one she wanted. Why shouldn’t she have what she wanted? Why shouldn’t this one story have a happy ending?

I wanted to give her a gift… Well, I could give her what she wanted. Knowing what I did of human nature, it probably wouldn’t be very difficult. I sifted through the consciousness of the boy beside her, the object of her affections, and he did not seem unwilling, he was just stymied by the same difficulty she was. Hopeless and resigned, the way she was.

All I would have to do was plant the suggestion…

The plan formed easily, the script wrote itself without effort on my part. I would need Emmett’s help—getting him to go along with this was the only real difficulty. Human nature was so much easier to manipulate than vampire nature.

I was pleased with my solution, with my gift for Angela. It was a nice diversion from my own problems. Would that mine were as easily fixed.

My mood was slightly improved as Beau and I took our seats. Maybe I should be more positive. Maybe there was some solution out there for us that was escaping me, the way Angela’s obvious solution was so invisible to her. Not likely… But why waste time with hopelessness? I didn’t have time to waste when it came to Beau. Each second mattered.

Mrs. Banner entered pulling an ancient TV and VCR. She was skipping through a section she wasn’t particularly interested in—genetic disorders—by showing a movie for the next three days. _Lorenzo’s Oil_ was not a very cheerful piece, but that didn’t stop the excitement in the room. No notes, no test-able material. Three free days. The humans exulted.

It didn’t matter to me, either way. I hadn’t been planning on paying any attention to anything but Beau.

I did not pull my chair away from his today, to give myself space to breathe. Instead, I sat close beside him like any normal human would. Closer than we sat inside my car, close enough that the left side of my body felt submerged in the heat from his skin.

It was a strange experience, both enjoyable and nerve-racking, but I preferred this to sitting across the table from him. It was more than I was used to, and yet I quickly realized that it was not enough. I was not satisfied. Being this close to him only made me want to be closer still. The pull was stronger the closer I got.

I had accused him of being a magnet for danger. Right now, it felt like that was the literal truth. I _was_ danger, and, with every inch I allowed myself nearer to him, his attraction grew in force.

And then Mrs. Banner turned the lights out.

It was odd how much of a difference this made, considering that the lack of light meant little to my eyes. I could still see just as perfectly as before. Every detail of the room was clear.

So why the sudden shock of electricity in the air, in this dark that was not dark to me? Was it because I knew that I was the only one who could see clearly? That both Beau and I were invisible to the others? Like we were alone, just the two of us, hidden in the dark room, sitting so close beside one another…

My hand moved toward him without my permission. Just to touch his hand, to hold it in the darkness. Would that be such a horrific mistake? If my skin bothered him, he only had to pull away…

I yanked my hand back, folded my arms tightly across my chest and clenched my hands closed. No mistakes. I’d promised myself that I would make no mistakes, no matter how minimal they seemed. If I held his hand, I would only want more—another insignificant touch, another move closer to him. I could feel that. A new kind of desire was growing in me, working to override my self-control.

No mistakes.

Beau folded his arms securely across his own chest, and his hands balled up into fists, just like mine.

_What are you thinking?_ I was dying to whisper the words to him, but the room was too quiet to get away with even a whispered conversation.

The movie began, lightening the darkness just a bit. Beau glanced up at me. He noted the rigid way I held my body—just like his—and smiled. His lips parted slightly, and his eyes seemed full of warm invitations.

Or perhaps I was seeing what I wanted to see.

I smiled back; his breathing caught slightly and he looked quickly away.

That made it worse. I didn’t know his thoughts, but I was suddenly positive that I had been right before, and that he _wanted_ me to touch him. He felt this dangerous desire just as I did.

Between his body and mine, the electricity hummed.

He didn’t move at all through the hour, holding his stiff, controlled pose as I held mine. Occasionally he would peek at me again, and the humming current would jolt through me with a sudden shock.

The hour passed—slowly, and yet not slowly not enough. This was so new, I could have sat like this with him for days, just to experience the feeling fully.

I had a dozen different arguments with myself while the minutes passed, rationally struggling with desire as I tried to justify touching him.

Finally, Mrs. Banner turned the lights on again.

In the bright fluorescent light, the atmosphere of the room returned to normal. Beau sighed and stretched, flexing his fingers in front of him. It must have been uncomfortable for him to hold that position for so long. It was easier for me—stillness came naturally.

I chuckled at the relieved expression on his face. “Well, that was interesting.”

“Umm, yeah,” he murmured, clearly understanding what I referred to, but making no comment. What I wouldn’t give to hear what he was thinking _right now_.

I sighed. No amount of wishing was going to help with that.

“Shall we?” I asked, standing.

He made a face and got unsteadily to his feet, his hands splayed out as if he were afraid he was going to fall.

I could offer him my hand. Or I could place that hand underneath his elbow—just lightly—and steady him. Surely that wouldn’t be such a horrible infraction.

No mistakes.

He was very quiet as we walked toward the gym. The crease was evident between his eyes, a sign that he was deep in thought. I, too, was thinking deeply.

One touch of his skin wouldn’t hurt him, my selfish side contended.

I could easily moderate the pressure of my hand. It wasn’t exactly difficult, as long as I was firmly in control of myself. My tactile sense was better developed than a human’s; I could juggle a dozen crystal goblets without breaking any of them; I could stroke a soap bubble without popping it. As long as I was firmly in control.

Beau was like a soap bubble—fragile and ephemeral. _Temporary._

How long would I be able to justify my presence in his life? How much time did I have? Would I have another chance like this chance, like this moment, like this second? He would not always be within my arm’s reach…

Beau turned to face me at the gym’s door, and his eyes widened at the expression on my face. He didn’t speak. I looked at myself in the reflection of his eyes and saw the conflict raging in my own. I watched my face change as my better side lost the argument.

My hand lifted without a conscious command for it to do so. As gently as if he were made of the thinnest glass, as if he were as fragile as a bubble, my fingers stroked the warm skin that covered his cheekbone. It heated under my touch, and I could feel the pulse of blood speed beneath his transparent skin.

_Enough_ , I ordered _,_ though my hand was aching to shape itself to the side of his face. _Enough_.

It was difficult to pull my hand back, to stop myself from moving closer to him than I already was. A thousand different possibilities ran through my mind in an instant—a thousand different ways to touch him. The tip of my finger tracing the shape of his lips. My palms cupping under his chin. Running my hand through his thick brown hair. My arms winding around his waist, holding him against the length of my body.

_Enough_.

I forced myself to turn, to move away from him. My body moved stiffly—unwilling.

I let my mind linger behind to watch him as I walked swiftly away, almost running from the temptation. I caught Mike Newton’s thoughts—they were the loudest—while he watched Beau walk past him in oblivion, his eyes unfocused and his cheeks red. Mike glowered and suddenly my name was mingled with curses in his head; I couldn’t help grinning slightly in response.

My hand was tingling. I flexed it and then curled it into a fist, but it continued to sting painlessly.

No, I hadn’t hurt Beau—but touching him had still been a mistake.

It felt like fire—like the thirsting burn of my throat had spread throughout my entire body.

The next time I was close to him, would I be able to stop myself from touching him again? And if I touched him once, would I be able to stop at that?

No more mistakes. That was it. _Savor the memory, Edward_ , I told myself grimly, _and keep your hands to yourself._ That, or I would have to force myself to leave… somehow. Because I wouldn’t allow myself near him if I insisted on making errors.

I took a deep breath and tried to steady my thoughts.

Emmett caught up with me outside the English building.

“Hey, Edward.” _He’s looking better. Weird, but better. Happy._

“Hey, Em.” Did I look happy? I supposed, despite the chaos in my head, I felt that way.

_Way to keep your mouth shut, kid. Royal wants to rip your tongue out._

I sighed. “Sorry I left you to deal with that. Are you angry with me?”

“Naw. Roy’ll get over it. It was bound to happen anyway.” _With what Alice sees coming…_

Alice’s visions were not what I wanted to think about right now. I stared forward, my teeth locking together.

As I searched for a distraction, I caught sight of Ben Cheney entering the Spanish room ahead of us. Ah—here was my chance to give Angela Weber her gift.

I stopped walking and caught Emmett’s arm. “Hold on a second.”

_What’s up?_

“I know I don’t deserve it, but would you do me a favor anyway?”

“What is it?” he asked, curious.

Under my breath—and at a speed that would have made the words incomprehensible to a human no matter how loud they’d been spoken—I explained to him what I wanted.

He stared at me blankly when I was done, his thoughts as blank as his face.

“So?” I prompted. “Will you help me do it?”

It took him a minute to respond. “But, _why_?”

“C’mon, Emmett. Why _not_?”

_Who are you and what have you done with my brother?_

“Aren’t you the one who complains that school is always the same? This is something a little different, isn’t it? Consider it an experiment—an experiment in human nature.”

He stared at me for another moment before he caved. “Well, it _is_ different, I’ll give you that… Okay, fine.” Emmett snorted and then shrugged. “I’ll help you.”

I grinned at him, feeling more enthusiastic about my plan now that he was on board. Royal was a pain, but I would always owe him one for choosing Emmett; no one had a better brother than mine.

Emmett didn’t need practice. I whispered his lines to him once under my breath as we walked into the classroom.

Ben was already in his seat behind mine, assembling his homework to hand in. Emmett and I both sat and did the same thing. The classroom was not quiet yet; the murmur of subdued conversation would continue until Mrs. Goff called for attention. She was in no hurry, appraising the quizzes from the last class.

“So,” Emmett said, his voice louder than necessary—if he were really speaking only to me. “Did you ask Angela Weber out yet?”

The sound of papers rustling behind me came to an abrupt stop as Ben froze, his attention suddenly riveted on our conversation.

_Angela? They’re talking about Angela?_

Good. I had his interest.

“No,” I said, shaking my head slowly to appear regretful.

“Why not?” Emmett improvised. “Are you chicken?”

I grimaced at him. “No. I heard that she was interested in someone else.”

_Edward Cullen was going to ask Angela out? But… No. I don’t like that. I don’t want him near her. He’s… not right for her. Not… safe._

I hadn’t anticipated the chivalry, the protective instinct. I’d been working for jealousy. But whatever worked.

“You’re going to let that stop you?” Emmett asked scornfully, improvising again. “Not up for the competition?”

I glared at him, but made use of what he gave me. “Look, I guess she really likes this Ben person. I’m not going to try to convince her otherwise. There are others I could pursue.”

The reaction in the chair behind me was electric.

“Who?” Emmett asked, back to the script.

“My lab partner said it was some kid named Cheney. I’m not sure I know who he is.”

I bit back my smile. Only the haughty Cullens could get away with pretending not to know every student at this tiny school.

Ben’s head was whirling with shock. _Me? Over Edward Cullen? But why would she like me?_

“Edward,” Emmett muttered in a lower tone, rolling his eyes toward the boy. “He’s right behind you,” he mouthed, so obviously that the human could easily read the words.

“Oh,” I muttered back.

I turned in my seat and glanced once at the boy behind me. For a second, the black eyes behind the glasses were frightened, but then he stiffened and squared his narrow shoulders, affronted by my clearly disparaging evaluation. His chin shot out and an angry flush darkened his golden-brown skin.

“Huh,” I said arrogantly as I turned back to Emmett.

_He thinks he’s better than me. But Angela doesn’t. I’ll show him…_

Perfect.

“Didn’t you say she was taking some other guy to the dance, though?” Emmett asked.

“That was apparently a group decision.” I wanted to be sure that Ben was clear on this. “Angela’s shy. If B—well, if a guy doesn’t have the nerve to ask her out, she’d never ask him.”

“You like ‘em shy,” Emmett said, back to improvisation. _And quiet. And boys. Boys like… hmm, I don’t know. Maybe Beau Swan?_

I grinned at him. “Exactly.” Then I returned to the performance. “Maybe Angela will get tired of waiting. Maybe I’ll ask her to the prom.”

_No, you won’t,_ Ben thought, straightening up in his chair. _So what if she’s so much taller than me? If she doesn’t care, then neither do I. She’s the nicest, smartest, prettiest girl in this school… and she wants_ me _._

I liked this Ben. He seemed bright and well-meaning. Maybe even worthy of a girl like Angela.

I gave Emmett a thumbs up under the desk as Mrs. Goff stood and greeted the class.

_Okay, I’ll admit it—that was sort of fun,_ Emmett thought.

I smiled to myself, pleased that I’d been able to shape one love story’s happy ending. I was positive that Ben would follow through, and Angela would receive my anonymous gift. My debt was repaid.

How silly humans were, to let a six-inch height differential confound their happiness.

My success put me in a good mood. I smiled again as I settled into my chair and prepared to be entertained. Beau had mentioned that he was uncoordinated. And since he was in Gym, I decided it would be the perfect opportunity to see for myself.

Mike’s thoughts were easy to pinpoint in the babble of the voices that swarmed through the gym. His mind had gotten far too familiar over the last few weeks. With a sigh, I resigned myself to listening through him. At least I could be sure that he would be paying attention to Beau.

I was just in time to hear him offer to be Beau’s badminton partner; as he made the suggestion, other partnerings ran through his mind. My smile faded, my teeth clenched together, and I had to remind myself that murdering Mike Newton was not a permissible option.

_“Thanks, Mike—you don’t have to do this, you know.”_

_“Don’t worry, I’ll keep out of your way.”_

They grinned at each other, and flashes of numerous accidents—always in some way connected to Beau—flashed through Mike’s head.

Mike played alone at first, while Beau hesitated on the back half of the court, holding his racket gingerly, as if it were some kind of weapon. Then Coach Clapp amble by and ordered Mike to let Beau play.

_Uh oh_ , Mike thought as Beau moved forward with a sigh, holding his racquet at an awkward angle.

Jennifer Ford served the birdie directly toward Beau with a smug twist to her thoughts. Mike saw Beau lurch toward it, swinging the racket yards wide of his target, and Mike rushed in to try to save the volley.

I watched the trajectory of Beau’s racquet with alarm. Sure enough, it hit the taut net and sprung back at him, clipping his forehead before it spun out to strike Mike’s shoulder with a resounding _thwack_.

_Ow. Ow. Ungh. That’s going to leave a bruise._

Beau was kneading his forehead. It was hard to stay in my seat where I belonged, knowing he was hurt. But what could I do, if I were there? And it didn’t seem to be serious… I hesitated, watching. If he intended to continue to try to play, I was going to have to manufacture an excuse to pull him out of class.

The coach laughed. _“Sorry, Newton.” That Swan boy’s the worst jinx I’ve ever seen. Shouldn’t inflict him on the others…_

He turned his back deliberately and moved to watch another game so that Beau could return to his former spectator’s role.

_Ow,_ Mike thought again, massaging his shoulder. He turned to Beau. _“Are you okay?”_

_“Yeah, are you?”_ he asked sheepishly, blushing.

_“I think I’ll make it.” Don’t want to sound like a crybaby. But, damn, that hurts!_

Mike swung his arm in a circle, wincing.

_“I’ll just stay back here,”_ Beau said, embarrassment and chagrin on his face rather than pain. Maybe Mike had got the worst of it. I certainly _hoped_ that was the case. At least he wasn’t playing anymore. He held his racquet so carefully behind his back, his eyes wide with remorse… I had to disguise my laugh as coughing.

_What’s funny?_ Emmett wanted to know.

“Tell you later,” I muttered.

Beau didn’t venture into the game again. The coach ignored him and let Mike play alone.

I breezed through the quiz at the end of the hour, and Mrs. Goff let me go early. I was listening intently to Mike as I walked across the campus. He’d decided to confront Beau about me.

_Jessica swears they’re dating. Why? Why did Cullen have to pick Beau?_

He didn’t recognize the real phenomenon—that Beau had picked _me_.

_“So.”_

_“So what?”_ he wondered.

_“You and Cullen, huh?” You and the freak. I guess, if a rich guy is that important to you…_

I gritted my teeth at his degrading assumption.

_“Yeah, I guess_.” Beau responded shortly.

_Defensive. So it’s true. Crap. “I don’t like it.”_

_“You don’t have to,”_ Beau shrugged.

_Why can’t he see what a circus sideshow Cullen is? Like they all are? The way he stares at Beau. It gives me chills to watch. “He looks at you like… like you’re something to eat.”_

I cringed, waiting for Beau’s response.

Beau’s face turned bright red, and his lips pressed together like he was holding his breath. Then, suddenly, a giggle burst through his lips.

_Now he’s laughing at me. Great._

Beau turned, suddenly, and hurried into the locker room to clean up.

I leaned against the gym wall and tried to compose myself.

How could Beau have laughed at Mike’s accusation—so entirely on target that I began to worry that Forks was becoming too _aware_ … Why would he laugh at the suggestion that I would kill him, when he knew that it was entirely true? Where was the humor in that?

What was _wrong_ with him?

Did he have a morbid sense of humor? That didn’t fit with my idea of his character, but how could I be sure? Or maybe my daydream of the giddy angel was true in the one respect, in that he had no sense of fear at all. Brave—that was one word for it. Others might stay stupid, but I knew how bright he was. No matter what the reason, though, this lack of fear or twisted sense of humor wasn’t good for him. Was it this strange lack that put him in danger so constantly? Maybe he would always need me here…

Just like that, my mood was soaring.

If I could just discipline myself, make myself safe, then perhaps it would be right for me to stay with him.

When he walked through the gym doors, his shoulders were stiff and his lower lip was between his teeth again—a sign of anxiety. But as soon as his eyes met mine, his rigid shoulders relaxed and a wide smile spread across his face. It was an oddly peaceful expression. He walked right to my side without hesitation, only stopping when he was so close that his body heat crashed over me like a tidal wave.

“Hi,” he whispered.

The happiness I felt in this moment was, again, without precedent.

“Hello,” I said, and then—because with my mood suddenly so light I couldn’t resist teasing him—I added, “How was gym?”

His smile wavered. “Fine.”

He was a poor liar.

“Really?” I asked, about to press the issue---I was still concerned about his head; was he in pain?—but then Mike Newton’s thoughts were so loud they broke my concentration.

_I hate him. I wish he would die. I hope he drives that shiny car right off a cliff. Why couldn’t he just leave Beau alone? Stick to his own kind—to the freaks._

“What?” Beau demanded.

My eyes refocused on his face. He looked at Mike’s retreating back, and then at me again.

“Newton’s getting on my nerves.”

His mouth fell open, and his smile disappeared. He must have forgotten that I’d had the power to watch through his calamitous last hour, or hoped that I hadn’t utilized it. “Edward, were you listening again?”

“How’s your head?”

“You’re unbelievable.” He rolled his eyes, and then he turned away from me and walked in the direction of the parking lot. His skin flushed dark red—he was embarrassed.

I kept pace with him, hoping that his anger would pass soon. He was usually quick to forgive me.

“You were the one who mentioned how uncoordinated you were,” I explained. “It made me curious.”

He didn’t answer; his eyebrows pulled together.

He came to a sudden halt in the parking lot when he realized that the way to my car was blocked by a crowd of students.

_I wonder how fast they’ve got this thing…_

_Look at the SMG shift paddles. I’ve never seen those outside of a magazine…_

_Nice side grills…_

_Sure wish I had sixty thousand dollars laying around…_

This was exactly why it was better for Royal to only use his car out of town.

I wound through the throng of lustful students to my car; after a second hesitation, Beau followed suit.

“Ostentatious,” I muttered as he climbed in.

“What kind of car is that?” he wondered.

“An M3.”

He shrugged. “Sorry, that doesn’t mean anything to me.”

“It’s a BMW.” I rolled my eyes and then focused on backing out without running anyone down. I had to lock eyes with a few idiots that didn’t seem willing to move out of my way. A half-second meeting my gaze seemed to be enough to convince them.

He nodded, understanding lighting his face.

“Are you still angry?” I asked him. His frown had relaxed.

“I’m not happy,” He said shortly.

I sighed. Maybe I shouldn’t have brought it up. Oh well. I could try to make amends, I supposed. “Will you forgive me if I apologize?”

He thought about that for a moment. “Maybe… if you mean it,” he decided. “ _And_ if you promise not to do it again.”

I wasn’t going to lie to him, and there was no way I was agreeing to _that_. Perhaps if I offered him a different exchange.

“How about if I mean it, _and_ I agree to let you drive Saturday?”

The furrow popped into existence between his eyes and he considered the new bargain. “Deal,” he said after a moment of thought.

Now for my apology… I’d never _tried_ to dazzle Beau on purpose before, but now seemed like a good time. I stared deep into his eyes as I drove away from the school, wondering if I was doing it right.

“Then I’m very sorry I upset you.”

I did mean it, sincerely. His heartbeat thudded louder than before, and the rhythm was abruptly staccato. His eyes widened, and he smiled a little.

I half-smiled. It seemed like I’d gotten it right. Of course, I was having a bit of difficultly looking away from his eyes, too. Equally dazzled. It was a good thing I had this road memorized.

“I’ll be on your doorstep bright and early Saturday morning,” I added, finishing the agreement.

He blinked swiftly, shaking his head as if to clear it. “Um,” he said. “it doesn’t help with the Charlie situation if an unexplained Volvo is left in the driveway.”

Ah, how little he still knew me. “I wasn’t intending to bring the car.”

“How—“ he started to ask.

I interrupted him. The answer would be hard to explain without a demonstration, and now was hardly the time. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll be there, no car.”

He put his head on one side, and looked for a second like he was going to press for more, but then he seemed to change his mind.

“Is it later yet?” he asked, reminding me of our unfinished conversation in the cafeteria today; he’d let go of one difficult question just to return to another that was more unappealing.

“I suppose it is later,” I agreed unwillingly.

I parked in front of his house, tensing as I tried to think of how to explain… without making my monstrous nature too evident, without frightening him again. Or was that wrong? To minimize my darkness?

He waited with the same politely interested mask he’d worn at lunch. If I’d been less anxious, his preposterous calm would have made me laugh.

“And you still want to know why you can’t see me hunt?” I asked.

“Well, mostly I was wondering about your reaction,” he said.

“Did I frighten you?” I asked, positive that he would deny it.

“A bit.”

I hadn’t expected that. Once again, he surprised me. “I apologize for scaring you.” I said solemnly. “It was just the very thought of you being there… while we hunted.”

“That would be bad?”

The mental picture was too much—Beau, so vulnerable in the empty darkness; myself, out of control… I tried to banish it from my head. “Extremely.”

“Because…?”

I took a deep breath, concentrating for one moment on the burning thirst. Feeling it, managing it, proving my dominion over it. It would never control me again—I willed that to be true. I _would_ be safe for Beau. I stared at the welcome clouds without seeing them, wishing I could believe that my determination would make any difference if I were hunting when I crossed his scent.

“When we hunt… we give ourselves over to our senses,” I told him, thinking through each word before I spoke it. “Govern less with our minds. Especially our sense of smell. If you were anywhere near me when I lost control that way…”

I shook my head in agony at the thought of what would—not what _could_ , but what _would_ —surely happen then.

I listened to the spike in his heartbeat, and then turned, restless, to read his eyes.

Beau’s face was composed, his eyes grave. His mouth was pursed just slightly in what I guessed was concern. But concern for what? His own safety? Or my anguish? I continued to stare at him, trying to translate his ambiguous expression into sure fact.

He gazed back. His eyes grew wider after a moment, and his pupils dilated, though the light had not changed.

My breathing accelerated, and suddenly the quiet in the car seemed to be humming just like in the darkened biology room this afternoon. The pulsing current raced between us again, and my desire to touch him was, briefly, stronger even than the demands of my thirst.

The throbbing electricity made it feel like I had a pulse again. My body sang with it. Like I was human. More than anything in the world, I wanted to feel the heat of his lips against mine. For one second, I struggled desperately to find the strength, the control, to be able to put my mouth so close to his skin…

He sucked in a ragged breath, and only then did I realize that when I had started breathing faster, he had stopped breathing altogether.

I closed my eyes, trying to break the connection between us.

No more mistakes.

Beau’s existence was tied to a thousand delicately balanced chemical processes, all so easily disrupted. The rhythmic expansion of his lungs, the flow of oxygen, was life or death to him. The fluttering cadence of his fragile heart could be stopped by so many stupid accidents or illnesses or… by me.

I did not believe that any member of my family would hesitate if he or she were offered a chance back—if he or she could trade immortality for mortality again. Any one of us would stand in fire for it. Burn for as many days or centuries as were necessary.

Most of our kind prized immortality above anything else. There were even humans who craved this, who searched in dark places for those who could give them the blackest of gifts.

Not us. Not my family. We would trade anything to be human.

But none of us had ever been as desperate for a way back as I was now.

I stared at the microscopic pits and flaws in the windshield, and I had to concentrate to keep my hands on the wheel.

My right hand began to sting without pain again, from when I’d touched him before. I closed my eyes, trying to keep control.

“Beau, I think you should go inside now.”

“Yeah, me too.” He breathed.

Without another comment, he got out of the car and shut the door behind himself. Did he feel the potential for disaster as clearly as I did?

Did it hurt him to leave, as it hurt me to let him go? The only solace was that I would see him soon. Sooner than he would see me. I smiled at that, then rolled the window down and leaned across to speak to him one more time—it was safer now, with the heat of his body outside the car.

He turned to see what I wanted, curious.

Still curious, though he’d asked me so many questions today. My own curiosity was entirely unsatisfied; answering his questions today had only revealed my secrets—I’d gotten little from him but my own conjectures. That wasn’t fair.

“Oh, Beau?”

“Yes?”

“Tomorrow it’s my turn.”

His forehead puckered. “Your turn to what?”

“Ask the questions.” Tomorrow, when we were in a safer place, surrounded by witnesses, I would get my own answers. I grinned at the thought, and then I turned away because he made no move to leave. Even with him outside of the car, the echo of the electricity zinged in the air. I wanted to get out, too, to walk him to his door as an excuse to stay beside him…

No more mistakes. I hit the gas, and then sighed as he disappeared behind me. It seemed like I was always running toward Beau or running away from him, never staying in place. I would have to find some way to hold my ground if we were ever going to have peace.

Of course, if I had any hope for peace I would need to face my family first. When I arrived home, I braced myself for the confrontation. I knew Alice and Emmett wouldn’t give me much trouble. Emmett seemed almost amused by it all, and Alice had made her feelings abundantly clear. Jasper was unhappy, that much was obvious, but his feelings paled in comparison to Royal’s absolute fury.

I was relieved—if not surprised—to see that my Aston Martin sat unscathed in the garage. Royal may have been angry, but at least he wasn’t _that_ angry.

When I stepped into the house, it was Carlisle’s voice that greeted me first.

“Edward, we’re in the dining room.”

I took a calming breath, and headed to where my family waited for me.

_Idiot! Selfish! Jackass!_ Royal’s stream of mental insults continued, seemingly unbroken, from the cafeteria.

When I reached the dining room, everyone was already sitting at the table. Carlisle at the head, Esme at his side. Alice sat next to her and I was somewhat pleased to see Jasper sitting next to her instead of standing like the last time. Emmett sat next to Royal opposite of Carlisle. Royal tapped his fingers impatiently against the wood of the table. If he wasn’t careful he’d leave a dent.

_Honesty is the best policy!_ Alice thought. _It should be fine… probably._

I took another deep breath, I tried to get a read on everyone’s mental state but it was hard to hear anyone else over Royal. I’d just have to jump in.

“First of all,” I began, “I want to apologize. I’ve been acting very erratic lately. There’s no excuse for that. I should also apologize for not talking to everyone about Beau—“

“Yes, you should!” Royal interrupted me. “You should apologizing for being completely irresponsible.”

“C’mon, babe,” Emmett put his hand on Royal’s shoulder. “Calm down.”

“Don’t tell me to calm down, Emmett.” Royal snapped.

“I am sorry, Royal,” I sighed. “Please believe me, I didn’t mean to—“

“Do you have any idea what sort of a situation you’ve put us in, Edward?” Royal snarled. “Do you even comprehend how your selfishness has affected this entire family?”

“Royal, please,” Carlisle’s voice was soothing. “Let’s not overreact.”

“I’m not overreacting, Carlisle,” Royal retorted. “If anything happens there’s no quietly moving away. There’s no way to sweep this under the rug. He’s already been seen publicly with the boy. The entire school is talking about it.”

“Is that true, Edward? Are you two…?” Esme asked, I could hear the hopefulness in her voice. The happiness. I felt guilty that it pleased me so much.

“Yes, we’re…” I couldn’t find the right words. ‘Dating’ didn’t seem like enough, it didn’t hold the weight of my feelings for Beau. “Yes, we are.”

_Wonderful! Absolutely wonderful!_ Esme’s joy radiated from her thoughts and her smile.

Carlisle smiled as well, thought he didn’t speak. _I’m happy for you, Edward. You deserve to be happy._

Alice was practically vibrating with excitement.

“We’re pleased that Edward has taken up with some human?” Royal rolled his eyes at the various reactions around the table. “That’s he’s gone _public_ with it all?”

“He seems like a fine enough kid,” Emmett said, surprising me by jumping to my defense against Royal.

“I couldn’t care less what kind of a person he is, Emmett.” Royal glowered. “I care that he’s _human_ and he knows _everything_.”

“But he’s not going to tell anyone, Roy,” Emmett replied. “He saw Edward hold up a van and he didn’t say anything. Edward spilled everything to him and he didn’t say anything. I’m pretty sure the kid is going to keep our secret.”

Like this afternoon, I was grateful to Emmett for always being the best I could ask for in a brother. Even in the face of Royal’s fury he was willing to help me.

“And what happens if Edward kills him? What happens if Edward changes him?” Royal snarled.

The growls erupted from my throat before I could stop them.

“I won’t. I will keep him alive no matter what.” I hissed. “I’d sooner die than harm him.”

“Alice has already seen it, Edward.” Royal countered. “You’re fighting a losing battle.”

“I’ve seen a lot of things,” Alice chimed in. “Beau’s future is always changing, but dying isn’t his only future.”

And it was true. I could see the visions as they danced through her mind. The ones I hated, and new, unclear, shimmering futures that weren’t quite formed—still undecided. Beau had many futures and I would make sure he stayed happy and alive to see them.

“Royal, I think we can all agree that Edward is entitled to some happiness.” Carlisle said, his voice calm. “Would you deny him that?”

Royal fumed, his thoughts a cacophony of anger.

“Babe,” Emmett sighed. “If it were the other way around, would you want Edward doing this to you? If you found me alive and not dying in the mountains?”

“I’d have had the common sense to stay away.” Royal snapped, before pushing himself away from the table and stalking out of the room.

Emmett sighed, looked at me and shrugged. “I tried, kid.”

“He didn’t mean that.” I said in a low voice. I felt wretched that Emmett should take the brunt of any of Royal’s anger, given that he was only trying to help me. “He wouldn’t have stayed away.”

“I know,” Emmett grinned. “and I don’t need to read his mind to know it.”

“I’m sorry, Em.”

He stood and crossed the room to me and put his arm around my shoulder, clapping me on the chest. “I got your back, Edward. If this Swan kid makes you happy, then I’m happy for you.”

“Thank you, Emmett.”

_I know how hard this is for you, to be around him. Trust me. If you haven’t killed him yet—if you’re trying this hard… You’ve got to be crazy about him. I don’t get it, but it’s your life, I guess._

He grinned, and followed after Royal to try and calm him down.

I looked back to Carlisle. “I am sorry I put us at risk, and I’m sorry I told Beau everything without talking to any of you.”

Carlisle shook his head, smiling. “You know how I feel, Edward. I’m pleased that you’ve found happiness.” He rose from his chair, taking Esme’s hand as she rose from hers.

As they walked past, Carlisle squeezed my shoulder and Esme gave me a tight hug.

“It will all work out, Edward.” Esme smiled. “It just has to.”

Alice stood and crossed the room, she stopped at the doorway and looked back at me. “Esme’s right,” she said with confidence. “It’ll be fine. Let me know when I can talk to him!” And she was gone.

Jasper didn’t move. He seemed pensive, uncertain.

“You haven’t said much.” I broke the silence. “You haven’t been thinking of much, either.”

Jasper pursed his lips for a moment, then he sighed. “I’m just worried, Edward.”

“I know you are.”

“Royal has a point, that’s all I’m going to say.”

“I’m not ignorant of that,” I sighed. “Thank you, by the way, for helping with the mood of the room there.” I said dryly.

The corners of Jaspers mouth twitched as he fought a smile.

_It’s better to let Royal get all that anger out, unimpeded. It’s worse if I temper it—just makes it fester and last longer._

“A fair point.”

“Are you really serious about this human?” He asked, his eyes serious.

Was I serious? Could I have done everything I had up to this point if I wasn’t serious? If I didn’t love Beau so much, if he didn’t mean so much to me, would I even be standing here having this conversation?

“Jasper,” I met his gaze. “He means everything to me. I can’t imagine my world without him in it. I’ll never deserve him but… I love him.”

Jasper finally smiled. _Then good luck. I can’t even begin to understand your obsession with the boy, but I’ll do what I can to keep the peace._ He stood and crossed the room, pausing at the door. _But I’m also keeping my distance._

I could appreciate that. It saved me the trouble of asking him to. I knew Jasper wouldn’t willingly hurt Beau, but being the magnet for trouble he was, I imagined Beau might be the one human to finally break Jasper’s tenuous self-control. I shuddered at the thought and banished it from my mind.

“Jasper?”

“Hm?” He paused again, turning slightly to look back at me.

“Have you ever… Has there every been anyone who smelled better to you? Than any of the others?”

He thought about this for a moment, considering it. “Honestly, they all smell about the same to me.” He shrugged. _Every one of them is a challenge for me, you know that maybe better than anyone._

He was right, I knew what a challenge being around humans was for Jasper. But I didn’t want to think about that now. I pushed everything out, I only wanted to think of Beau. I still had some time before he would be asleep. I sat down at the piano and played, waiting for the moment I could see him again.

Beau was restless that night as he slept. I had thought that some distance would help to calm the electric feeling between us, but the moment I crept in through the window the echo intensified into a full spark. Tonight, more than any other, I ached to be near him. But I had to be careful—I had to keep control. I said I would make no more mistakes.

Beau tossed about his bed frequently. Fitful and unable to relax. His brow would furrow and unfurrow. I longed to comfort him, but I didn’t even know what was wrong.

He murmured my name several times. Nothing else, simply my name. Eventually he kicked off all his blankets. A few times, his breathing would speed up and his mumbling would turn into wordless groans. I was sure he woke up more than once, but he wouldn’t be able to see me from my place on the rocking chair in the corner. The shadows hid me well enough.

As I watched him, so fragile, so beautiful, and so full of secrets, I felt that new hunger ache inside of me. I needed to know every facet of him, Not simply because he was a walking mystery, but because I loved him. Because he meant everything to me. I could not ask for his love if I didn’t know him better than anyone else… and I would. Today, I would find out everything I so desperately wanted to know.

It wasn’t until the early hours of the morning that he finally seemed to fall into a true sleep. He didn’t speak anymore, most likely too exhausted. I reluctantly crept out of his window and hurried home to change for school.

As I drove to Beau’s house, I was forming a comprehensive list of all the questions I had for him. No detail was too small or insignificant. I was slightly surprised when I passed Chief Swan’s cruiser on my way. He had left later than usual today, and I wondered why. Charlie Swan was usually a very timely man. As we passed on the road, I could hear the muffled thoughts radiating from his mind—joy and pride, mixed with a deep love and a fierce protectiveness. All centered around his son. I wondered what had inspired these thoughts, or rather, what made them so loud today; louder than usual.

I parked my car in the driveway, listening for sounds of Beau inside the house. After a moment, I saw his face peek out of his window, a smile spreading across his face.

Would I ever not feel that swell of utter elation that filled me whenever he seemed excited to see me? I hoped I would not. It was bliss.

He bounded out the door, and I formulated my first question while simultaneously trying to calm myself down and appear relaxed.

“Good morning,” I smiled at him as he climbed into the car. “How are you today?” I searched his face, trying to see if I could deduce the answer from his expression. His expression was especially radiant this morning. “You seem to be very happy?” I wondered if it had anything to do with Charlie’s thoughts.

“I am.” His smile was wide, effortless. “It was a good morning.”

Perhaps it was, but the signs of his restless night were evident on his face. “But not a good night.” It wasn’t a question, I knew it hadn’t been.

“I couldn’t sleep,” he shrugged, like it didn’t matter in the slightest.

I smiled, feeling slightly mischievous. “Neither could I,” I said as I started the engine.

He laughed at my joke, “I guess that’s right. I suppose I slept just a little bit more than you did.”

“I’d wager you did.”

“So what did you do last night?” He smiled at me.

_I watched you sleep and wished I could hold you in my arms and kiss you._ Yes, that was a good, light topic of conversation. Best to avoid that. “Not a chance. It’s my day to ask questions.”

“Oh, that’s right.” He smiled, seeming unbothered by my deflection. Usually he didn’t like it when I avoided his questions. “You’re lucky I’m in such a good mood. Ask away.”

He was in a _very_ good mood. I knew he didn’t like answering questions all about him—he didn’t like being the center of conversation. I would have to be sure I took advantage of this situation and ask as many questions as I could.

“What’s your favorite color?” I asked. I was eager to hear all his answers and my face betrayed my desperate need to know every answer in his private mind.

Beau simply stared at me for a moment, before laughing. “I don’t know,” he said, sounding amused, “it changes from day to day.”

“What’s your favorite color today?”

“Uh, probably brown.” He said thoughtfully.

I snorted, caught off guard by his response. What an odd answer. Of course, he was dressed in mostly brown tones today, perhaps that had something to do with his answer?

“Brown?” I pushed.

“Sure. Brown is warm. I _miss_ brown. Everything that’s supposed to be brown—the trunks, rocks, dirt—is all covered up in green stuff here.”

I stared into his eyes, engrossed in his answer. It wasn’t the answer I would have expected from anyone and yet, it made perfect sense the way he explained it. In Arizona, brown would be the color most prevalent in his day to day life and he missed living in Arizona, the heat, the sun…

It also told me something new about him. He found the beauty in the unconventional. He looked beyond superficial ideas of beauty.

“You’re right,” I agreed, my voice serious. “Brown is warm.” I could see the beauty in brown as well, like the beautiful deep brown of his hair. I noticed his hair was slightly disheveled this morning, like he hadn’t paid much attention to it this morning. I could reach over and smooth his hair back. That was a normal, human gesture, right? An acceptable thing to do? I concentrated on being as gentle as I could, even then, I was hesitant to touch him. I could so easily hurt him. I smoothed out his hair, feeling proud of myself for doing it so gently.

He smiled in response, like he was amused. Had I done it wrong? Surely I had done it correctly. Why did he look so amused by it?

As I pulled into a parking space at the school, I turned to him, ready to ask my next question.

“What music is in your CD player right now?” It was a question that had been gnawing away at me the past several nights I had spent watching him sleep. I wanted to go look in his CD player myself, but that seemed like an invasion—well, _more_ of an invasion than climbing into his room at night.

He thought about it for a moment, trying to remember. “Linkin Park.” He said after a moment.

I hadn’t expected that answer, but I knew the band well. My only frame of reference for his music taste was some classical music. I flipped open the compartment under my car’s CD player, and pulled out the one I was looking for, handing it to him.

“Debussy to this?” I asked, amused by the stark difference.

He examined the cover art of the CD for a moment, his eyes bright with a sense of familiarity.

Always a surprise.

The rest of the day progressed much the same. I had my list of questions for him and asked them one after the other. Every detail was important to me. By the end of lunch I knew his favorite and least favorite films, where he had traveled—not very many places, I asked for a list of places he wanted to travel to and made a mental note of them for future reference—and an exhaustive list of every book he read and what he thought of each of them.

He seemed to feel self-conscious most of the time. I was sure he wasn’t used to talking about himself so much, but I was absolutely fascinated by each of his answers. I would scrutinize his physical response to each question just as thoroughly as his answer. Each little blush or change in posture only compelled me to ask more questions to ascertain what had caused the response in the first place.

Like when I asked him his favorite gemstone, something I thought to be a simple enough question; mostly inconsequential, but still utterly fascinating to me.

“Topaz,” he said immediately, and then his faced turned scarlet and his breathing caught for a moment. His eyes widened as they looked into mine, like he had said something he hadn’t meant to.

“Why Topaz?” I asked, curious.

He shook his head, “Doesn’t matter… just because.”

That wasn’t an acceptable answer; too vague. I focused my eyes on his, and used my most persuasive tone.

“You have to have a reason why it’s your favorite.”

He blushed deeper, and bit his lips.

How infuriating! Why wouldn’t he tell me? It only made the truth more interesting.

“Tell me,” I begged.

He reached his hand up and started twisting a curl around his finger. “It’s the color of your eyes today,” he sighed, staring at the ground. “I suppose if you asked me in two weeks I’d say onyx.” He blushed even deeper, embarrassed for some strange reason.

I was thrilled. Something about _me_ had inspired one of his favorite things. My joy was marred slightly by the fact that, again, the fact that my eyes changed their hue depending on how long it had been since I last fed didn’t seemed to phase him in the slightest.

But I didn’t want to waste time thinking about that. I had more questions.

“What kinds of flowers do you prefer?”

He sighed, with relief. “I think ruffled tulips are pretty.”

And we continued with my questions as we walked to Biology, as we sat in our usual chairs, and even right up until Mrs. Banner wheeled in the audiovisual frame.

Ah, I had been so absorbed in my questions and his answers that I hadn’t thought about this. We still had some of the film to finish. I braced myself for the oncoming hour, easing my chair as far away as I could from him. He leaned forward on the table, resting his chin on his folded arms. His hands hidden from my view.

The electric charge between us was not the same as the day before; it was even more intense. He didn’t look at me today, his eyes stayed focused on the screen. I, despite feeling that it would only make the hour more difficult, was free to watch him. I wanted to test my own resolve—my own self-control—today.

How badly I wished I could touch him. It was more than a wish, it was a need. A need to stroke his cheek, to feel the warmth of his hands in my own… but I could not make mistakes. I could not give in to those desires. Beau needed me to be stronger than that for him.

When the hour was finally up, he looked up at me with wide eyes, I managed to keep my own expression even despite the strong desire to touch him still burning deep within me. It took every ounce of my effort and self-control to not reach out.

I couldn’t bring myself to ask any questions as I walked him to the gym building. I was fiercely debating with myself. Why shouldn’t I reach out and touch him? If I was careful, if I was as gentle as I could be, why shouldn’t I permit myself a few, gentle touches?

When we reached the doors of the gym, he turned to face me. I finally permitted myself that touch, almost eager for that electric burning sensation I was sure it would cause. This time, though, I foolishly pushed myself. Instead of a finger, I ran the back of my hand along the side of his face, from his temple to his jaw. Sure enough, the touch burned. The heat of his skin burned into my own stony flesh, but there was no pain. Even as I pulled my hand away, like yesterday, it continued to burn.

His face was flushed as he watched me, his heartbeat irregular. His lips were slightly parted, and my resolve wavered. I wanted to touch his lips, I wanted to feel the velvety softness of them…

No mistakes.

I turned and hurried away to my own class, struggling to keep my pace human.

Emmett met me outside the building, whatever his thoughts were, he did his best to keep them to himself today, I was too preoccupied to truly pay attention anyway. I was cataloguing all the answers I had gotten today, filing them away for future reference, analyzing the unexpected ones, and deciding what to ask next. I had kept the topics fairly light so far. After school, I would push for the more complicated questions.

I occasionally would let myself check in with Mike Newton’s thoughts to check on Beau. Mike’s thoughts were unpleasant today; he was mad at Beau about their previous argument, and Beau’s unfocused expression only enforced Mike’s resolve to not speak to him. I tried not to watch for too long, after all, Beau would be upset if he knew I was watching him in Gym again and I wouldn’t lie if he asked me if I had.

_How’s it going today?_ Emmett’s thoughts finally reached out to me, as we walked out of class. _He still okay with everything?_

I nodded slightly.

_Alice was telling me how great he is_ , he mused. _Is he as great as she says?_

I rolled my eyes. Alice hadn’t even properly met Beau yet, and still she was talking about him like they were already great friends.

Emmett chuckled. _It’s how she is, Edward, don’t get too mad._

Emmett hurried off to meet up with Royal, and I glared after him for a moment before crossing the campus to the gym building.

I was surprised that Alice met me there.

“Hello, Alice.” I greeted her warily.

“Hello,” she said, seeming distracted. “Don’t be out too late today dropping off Beau. Best be home before it gets dark.”

Cryptic, as usual. I scanned her thoughts for what she was seeing. Flashes of visitors to the Swan residence. It wasn’t decided yet, but someone was thinking of visiting Beau today, vacillating between decisions.

_I don’t know who it is, I’m only looking at Beau’s future, and he’s probably going to have an unexpected visitor, but I don’t know whose decisions to watch to tell you who it is. Another complication. So, be careful._

“Thanks, Alice.” I nodded and she hurried off to meet the rest of my family.

Just a visitor, nothing overly complicated. Yet, it had been enough to make Alice warn me that I didn’t want to be around for it. The tone of her vision, uncertain as it was, imparted a sense that I should not be there.

Beau walked out of the gym at that moment, his eyes searching for me. A wide smile spread across his face when he found me, and I couldn’t help but smile in response. I wanted to ask how his hour was, but now I only had a few short hours with him so I needed to ask my questions while I could.

He still seemed game to answer me as we walked to the car and headed back to his house. We reached his home, but I was in no hurry to leave him. His answers had become more detailed, perhaps in response to the complexity of my questions. I was enthralled with every response. We sat in my car outside his house for hours, even as the sky darkened and the rain poured down.

He described to me, in stunning and descriptive detail—gesticulating widely—his memories of Phoenix. The smell of creosote, the sound of the cicadas, the delicately barren trees, and the sky. He spent most of his time describing the skies of Phoenix. I could hear his fascination with the beauty of it all.

Forks was beautiful; the tall green trees, the mossy ground, the gray watercolor skies, but as he described the vast expanse of Phoenix to me, the openness, the freedom of it all, the bright, sunlit iridescence, I almost felt like I was there myself… But it was a sight I would probably never see with my own eyes.

He was describing his mother’s home, and his old room. I listened to every detail, but even then my mind still seemed preoccupied with his descriptions of sunny Phoenix. That was his world; warm, bright, and sunny. It was not my world, could not be my world. I lived in the shadows, the darkness, and the cold. Further reminders of the difference between us. I was so engrossed in my thoughts, that I failed to respond when he finished talking.

“Are you finished?” he asked, sounding relieved.

“Not even close,” I replied, glancing at the time, “but your father will be home soon.” And I had stayed later than I should have, given Alice’s warning.

“Charlie!” He gasped, like he had forgotten where we were or what time it was. He sighed as he looked out at the dark skies. “How late is it?” He wondered aloud, glancing at the clock.

“It’s twilight,” I murmured, glancing to the west. It was a further reminder. This was where I belonged. Here in this place between day and night, living and dead. I turned to face him, and he was staring at me, his eyes full of curiosity.

“It’s the safest time of day for us, the easiest time.” My voice was somber. “But also the saddest, in a way… the end of another day, the return of the night. Darkness is so predictable, don’t you think?”

So cold, so unwelcoming. The darkness was where monsters like myself belonged. We didn’t deserve to walk in the light where creatures like him flourished. My world and his, in direct opposition with one another.

Yes, he belonged to the light and I belonged to the dark, and yet, there was the twilight. The place where those two worlds met, where it was light enough for him and dark enough for me. Where we could meet in the middle…

“I like the night.” He said suddenly. “Without the dark, we’d never see the stars.” Then he frowned. “Not that you see them here much.”

A laugh broke through my lips. Of course this strange, beautiful boy would enjoy the night. He was some strange, divine being that dared to dance upon the cruel earth. Why should it surprise me that this creature of the light would find beauty in the dark? After all, he was here, with me.

But my time with him was up, for now.

“Charlie will be here in a few minutes. So, unless you want to tell him that you’ll be with me Saturday…” I trailed off, hopeful.

“I don’t think he’s ready for that.” He said, gathering his books and stretching. “So, is it my turn tomorrow, then?”

“Certainly not!” I said, teasing him with an outraged expression. “I told you I wasn’t done, didn’t I?”

“What more is there?”

“You’ll find out tomorrow.” I promised, reaching across him to open his door for him. It was a foolish, impulsive thing to do. I heard his heartbeat spasm, the heat radiating off of him. I froze, anxious. I was so close to him. I wanted to close the small distance between us. I stared into his wide eyes, my emotions and desires in chaos.

_Beau already has a visitor… Damn, that’s a nice car…_ A thought intruded into the moment, I tried to pay it no mind.

_It can’t be!_

The second mind I could not ignore. I hadn’t heard it before, but I recognized something in it. The ancient authority of it and the thoughts that raced through it.

I stiffened and my jaw clenched. My eyes were wild with sudden panic.

“Not good,” I mumbled.

“What is it?” Beau breathed, examining my expression.

I glanced him up and down, desperate to stay with him, but, of course, I needed to be anywhere _but_ here with him right now. “Another complication,” I replied. Just as Alice had said.

The flash of the headlights reflected off of the rain as the dark car carrying Beau’s unexpected visitors pulled up to the curb just a few feet from us.

As if to add to my troubles, I then caught the muffled thoughts of Chief Swan around the corner as well. “Charlie’s around the corner,” I told Beau, my eyes locked on the dark car.

Beau immediately jumped out of the car, the rain glancing off his jacket. He tried to make out the occupants of the car, but his eyes couldn’t see through the rain. But mine could.

I paid no attention to the boy in the driver’s seat, but the older man sitting in the passenger seat of the car, with his russet skin, long hair, and his deep black eyes, was unknown to me and yet perfectly familiar. I could see his resemblance to Ephraim Black.

All these years later, the memory of Ephraim Black’s face was still perfectly preserved in my mind. The Quileutes had made quite the impression on us, after all. I recalled the name of the man now; Billy Black, grandson of Ephraim. His eyes were locked on my face, illuminated by the glow of the headlights. Worry and a sense of anger pulsing through his mind.

It was unfair that I should have to leave now. I had done nothing wrong. We had been meticulous about honoring the treaty. It had not been broken. A part of me wanted to stay, an act of defiance against this man. But that would be foolish of me.

It would be best if I made my exit. I revved the engine of the Volvo and pealed out of the driveway. Hurrying away. Retreating like the monster I was.

The Quileutes had a long memory, and now the grandson of Ephraim Black knew that I, a Cullen, was involved in some way with Beau Swan.

Another complication.


	13. Balancing

I was still tense when I climbed into Beau’s window that night. Carlisle had assured me that the Quileautes would do nothing to upset the treaty and that I shouldn’t worry. But I couldn’t help myself. Technically speaking, Beau already knew of the treaty, so it wouldn’t entirely be breaking the rules for the grandson of Ephraim Black to say anything to him. I was grateful Charlie had been only seconds from arriving home when I had left, that would hopefully have kept any conversations to a general topic.

Beau slept soundly tonight, but he didn’t speak. His sleep was dreamless. I watched him and further formulated my plans for Saturday. As accustomed to his scent as I was becoming, it was still difficult. Especially here, in his room, where it clung to every surface. I would need to prepare for Saturday. I could only be so strong, after all. A hunting trip tomorrow would be necessary, to make sure I was fully prepared.

I soaked in every moment of the evening. Beau’s face, so peaceful, was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. He was the most beautiful thing in this world. Alice’s visions would not come true. Saturday would not end in sorrow. I wasn’t sure if they would end happily either, but it would be a turning point for Beau and me. There were so few secrets between us now, it was time to rip back the curtain and lay everything bare.

When I got home that morning, Alice was waiting on the steps of the porch.

“What time are we leaving?” She asked me, smiling.

“We?” I raised an eyebrow.

“I thought you would like some company on your hunt.” She shrugged.

I had to appreciate Alice for her support.

“After lunch,” I replied. “We can take my car.”

“Will I be picking up Beau’s truck or will you?”

I laughed. “I’ll do it.”

She smiled and went inside. I was being selfish today, and she had already seen it. I still wanted my time with Beau, so I would still pick him up for school, even though I was leaving.

I drove with the windows rolled down, clearing my head of Beau’s scent completely with the cool morning air. I wanted to test myself this morning. When I arrived at Beau’s house, I waited, anxiously in the car.

He hurried out of the house and into the passenger seat, almost giddy. I grinned at his excitement, and his heart beat erratically in response. His scent hit me hard, as I expected. Intoxicating and desirable, and yet, somehow, I was able to withstand it better than I had before. I was immensely pleased with myself.

“How did you sleep?” I asked, though I already knew the answer.

“Fine, thanks. How was your night?” He smiled up at me.

“Pleasant.” If only he knew…

“Can I ask what you did?”

_I watched you sleep, because you’re absolutely beautiful when you sleep._ “No. Today is still _mine._ ”

As we drove to school I asked him about his mother; her name was Renée, she seemed to be a flighty person, flitting from one hobby to the next. I asked about his family, his Grandfather was named Michael, which was Beau’s middle name. The rest of the morning progressed much the same. He told me about the friends he had left behind in Phoenix, and then he flushed with embarrassment when I asked him about previous boys he had dated.

“What’s the matter?”

“It’s nothing… I just…” He paused, and shifted uncomfortably. “I’ve never dated anyone.”

“No one?” I asked, shocked. He was so eagerly pursued here in Forks, surely he had been similarly pursued in Phoenix. Certainly, he would have had more options to choose from.

“Nope, no one.” He shrugged.

“So you never met anyone you wanted?” Was I the first? Truly? He had been the first person to catch my interest, could I be the first to catch his? Surely he had at least _desired_ someone, if not dated them.

“Well, that’s really a different question, isn’t it?” He teased. I felt a flare of jealousy at the very idea of him desiring anyone else. He sighed. “Not in Phoenix.”

There was a relief for me in that, but it troubled me. He had never had another relationship before, and he had chosen me? A monster? That hardly seemed right.

My time with him was almost up. We were in the cafeteria now. He took a bite out of the bagel he was holding. I felt a surge of guilt and frustration with having to leave him.

“I should have let you drive yourself today,” I said.

“Why?” He cocked his head to the side.

“I’m leaving with Alice after lunch.” The guilt raged inside of me.

“Oh.” He blinked a few times, seeming disappointed. That pleased me, at least. “That’s okay, it’s not that far of a walk.”

Walk? Absurd. “I’m not going to make you walk home just because I was selfish today.”

“How were you selfish?”

I might as well be honest with him. Honesty was becoming the theme of this week. “I knew I was leaving after lunch, and I still wanted to spend as much time with you this morning as I could. I should have let you drive myself.” I looked down at him and grinned. “But I’m a horrifically selfish creature and I enjoy your presence too much.” All understatements, but honest just the same.

“It’s really okay, I don’t mind walking.” He said, blushing.

“I already told you, I’m not going to make you walk. We’ll go get your truck and leave it here for you.”

“I don’t have my key with me,” he sighed.

I remembered the last time he had driven his truck, and mused that his keys were either hanging somewhere in the house or in the pocket of the jeans he had been wearing that day. I remembered which pair it was, easily. “Your truck will be here, and the key will be in the ignition—“ and then I laughed as a thought came to me. “Unless you’re afraid someone might steal it.”

“Hey, respect the truck.” He pursed his lips, and looked thoughtful. He didn’t think I’d be able to get his truck back to the school before he was done. I smirked, rising to his challenge.

“So where are you going?” He asked, always asking the wrong questions—the ones I didn’t want to answer. But I was being honest this week.

“Hunting. I’m going to be alone with you tomorrow, I’m going to take whatever precautions I can.” I decided to give him another chance to back out, though the very thought pained me beyond anything, a part of me hoped. “You can always cancel, you know.”

He looked down, avoiding my eyes. “Nope,” he whispered, stealing a glance back at me. “I can’t.”

Of all the answers he could have given me, this was possibly the worst. There was always a choice, no matter what. But there was a grain of truth in his statement, I knew. Because I felt the same way. I couldn’t stay away from him any more than he could stay away from me. “Perhaps you’re right.”

“What time will I see you tomorrow?” He asked suddenly, his voice filled with excitement.

“That depends… It’s a Saturday, don’t you want to sleep in?” Humans liked sleeping in on Saturdays, didn’t they?

“No,” he said quickly, and then sighed. “Honestly, I’d like as much time with you outside of school as I can get.”

I tried to restrain my smile, I shouldn’t encourage this kind of behavior—it wasn’t safe for him. “The same time as usual, then. Will Charlie be there?” I wondered when it would be appropriate for me to meet his father.

“No, he’s fishing tomorrow.” He replied, clearly pleased with this fact.

That was bad. “And if you don’t come home, what will he think?” Could he hear the warning of danger in my voice? Would he care? Probably not, knowing him.

“I have no idea,” his voice was casual. “He knows I’ve been meaning to do the laundry. Maybe he’ll think I fell in the washer.”

I scowled at his casual answer and he scowled back, teasing me.

“What are you hunting tonight?” he asked after a moment.

How easily he asked the question, like I was going out to get food at a restaurant. “Whatever we find in the park. We aren’t going far.”

“Why are you going with Alice?”

“Alice is the most…” Exuberant, excited, “Supportive.” I frowned.

“And the others? What are they?” His voice was nervous.

I didn’t want to lie to him, but I didn’t want to tell him about Royal’s anger. Carlisle and Esme seemed pleased, but my siblings were a different story. I decided to be diplomatic. “Incredulous,” I said, “for the most part.” I added, thinking of Royal, specifically.

Then he turned his head and glanced at my family at their usual table, then back at me, his face morose. “They don’t like me.”

“That’s not it,” I argued, not wanting him to think that about himself. “They don’t understand why I can’t leave you alone.”

He sighed. “Neither do I, for that matter.”

I knew he didn’t mean it like he was annoyed, simply that he failed to understand my love for him. It frustrated me beyond measure. “I told you—“ I said, rolling my eyes to the ceiling, “You don’t see yourself clearly at all. You’re not like anyone I’ve ever known. You fascinate me.” Another understatement.

Beau narrowed his eyes at me, questioning my answer.

I was pleased that I could read his expressions better and better every day. “Having the advantages I do, I have a better than average grasp of human nature.” I tapped my forehead, gently. “People are predictable. But you… You never do what I expect. You always take me by surprise.”

He blushed and looked away from me. His eyes wandering behind him, again.

“That part is easy enough to explain,” I continued, watching him. “But there’s more… and it’s not so easy to put into words—“

How could I explain my love for him? How could I put _that_ into words? There were none that explained the depth of my feelings for him.

As I spoke, Royal turned his head in our direction. He heard what I was saying and his annoyance was rising steadily, but instead of meeting my eyes, he found Beau’s.

I could see Beau’s face in Royal’s mind. The wide, confused grey eyes tinged with fear. Royal’s mind was venomous toward Beau, and Beau was powerless to look away from Royal’s furious glare. I snarled under my breath, just loud enough for Royal to hear and he quickly turned his head away. Beau’s eyes snapped back to mine, still wide.

“I’m sorry about that. He’s just worried. You see…” I paused for a moment, choosing my words carefully. “It’s dangerous for more than just me if, after spending so much time with you so publicly…” I couldn’t say the words, I dropped my eyes like a coward.

“If?” he prompted.

“If this ends… badly.” How despicable I was to put him in this danger, to put my family in this danger. I was fighting to be strong, but what if I failed? I was far from perfect. I didn’t have the perfect control that Carlisle did. I dropped my head into my hands, ashamed of myself.

After a moment, he spoke again. “And you have to leave now?”

“Yes.” I looked up at him, wishing I didn’t have to. His expression was so disappointed that I couldn’t help but smile—he was sad that I had to leave and while I didn’t want him to be sad, it made me glad that he cared so strongly for me. “It’s probably for the best.” I made my voice lighter. “We still have fifteen minutes of that wretched movie left to endure in Biology—I don’t think I could handle any more.” Nor did I think I could resist that electricity between us another day, at least not without the fortification of a hunting trip.

He looked thoughtful for a moment, then jumped in surprise when Alice was suddenly by his side.

“Alice.” I greeted her without looking away from his surprised face.

“Edward.” She nodded. _Do I get to meet him now? I’ll behave, I promise!_

I smiled at Alice’s enthusiasm. “Alice, Beau—Beau, Alice,” I said, gesturing casually.

_It’s about time!_ “Hello, Beau.” She smiled at him, “It’s nice to finally meet you.” _No thanks to you, Edward._

I glared at her, I was sure Beau didn’t hear the subtle emphasis she put on the word finally—it was only for my benefit.

“Hi, Alice.” Beau’s answering smile was shy and utterly adorable.

“Are you ready?” Alice turned back to me.

“Nearly. I’ll meet you at the car.”

_He’s so cute!_ Alice thought as she walked away.

“Should I say ‘have fun,’ or is that the wrong sentiment?” Beau asked, turning back to me.

“No, ‘have fun’ works as well as anything.”

“Have fun, then.” He said, the disappointment still evident in his voice.

“I’ll try.” I was grinning at his tone. “And you try to stay safe, please.”

“Safe in Forks—what a challenge.” He deadpanned.

“For you it _is_ a challenge.” I said solemnly. “Promise.”

“I promise to try to be safe,” he recited like a child repeating a rule. “I’ll do the laundry tonight—that ought to be fraught with peril.”

“Don’t fall in,” I teased, remembering his words from earlier.

“I’ll do my best, but I make no guarantees.” He deadpanned, again.

I stood to leave, and he followed suit.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he sighed.

_I’ll see you sooner._ “It seems like a long time to you, doesn’t it?”

He nodded, sadly.

“I’ll be there in the morning.” I promised with my most reassuring smile. I readied myself, controlling my movements, and reached across the table to lightly brush my finger along his cheekbone. Reveling in the burning sting of his skin. Beau’s heartbeat become slightly louder. Pleased with myself, I turned and walked out of the cafeteria. Already counting the seconds until I would see him again.

Alice was waiting at the car for me. I climbed in and started the engine. She turned to me, her eyes exuberant.

“Did I behave myself well enough for you?”

I laughed. “Fine, except for your dig at me.”

“That’s your own fault for making me wait so long!” She retorted.

“And since when did you lack patience?” I rolled my eyes.

She stuck her little tongue out at me and I laughed again.

We reached Beau’s house and I left the car running as I climbed out.

“You’ll find them in the laundry room in a pair of jeans,” Alice called. “At least that’s where I saw you finding them.”

I was right then, I knew which pair to look for.

Scaling the side of the house, I slipped in through Beau’s window and looked for the laundry room. Finding it, I retrieved the keys quickly, dreading having to drive it back to the school given its monstrous speed limitations.

I went back to Beau’s room to leave, pausing for a moment to inhale his exquisite scent one last time. A stack of blank paper sticking out of a partially open drawer in his desk caught my eye. I crossed the room and took a sheet and a pen from the same drawer, writing the words “be safe,” on the page. I folded it in half and put it in my pocket. I would leave a note for him, something to think of me, to show my concern for his well-being. These were all things a normal, human boyfriend would do, right?

The drive back to the school was a grueling as I had imagined it would be. Moving at a glacial pace, I found myself regretting my promise to let Beau drive tomorrow. I could hear Alice’s frustrated thoughts in my car behind me. I left his truck parked in the spot previously occupied by my car with the key in the ignition and placed the note on the drivers seat for him to find. If only a note could make him actually safe.

The hunt was largely uneventful. At first, only a few small game, though I lucked out and found a particularly aggressive mountain lion. Alice followed my lead, knowing it was more important that I hunted as much as possible. She spent the time flipping through various visions, directing us to our prey now and then.

“Alice?” I finally asked as we were finishing up for the night.

“You won’t hurt him tomorrow,” Alice said with confidence. “It will be difficult, but you’ll do just fine.”

“Just because you say it doesn’t make it true, Alice, you can’t hide your other visions from me, of all people.” And it was true, her visions were more solid, less ephemeral, but tomorrow was still undecided. The course I was on, at this exact moment, was promising but things could change suddenly. In the blink of an eye, or between one precious heartbeat and the next, the constant reminders to me that Beau was more fragile than anything else in my world.

Feeling satisfied, if not overly full, from the hunt, it was time to head back. I was already eager to see Beau again. It was an aching need, different from the thirst. A need deep in my core; an altogether human need. I embraced it, reckless as it was, because it felt so _human_. Human was good. Human would keep Beau alive.

When I climbed into his bedroom window that night, the sound of Chopin’s _Nocturne in Db Major_ was playing softly from the old CD player near his bed, an open shoebox full of CDs on the floor. He was exceptionally still tonight as he slept, one arm across his chest, the other sprawled out above him. His lips slightly parted, his dark hair wild and curly, framing his pale face.

Even though I knew every detail of him, even though I could perfectly recall the image of him with ease, I recommitted it all to memory, knowing tomorrow could change everything. Tomorrow could make or destroy everything I was holding onto so carefully—everything _we_ were holding on to so desperately. But I would not run away from Beau any longer, not as long as he wanted me. He would feel as if I were running away again.

The morning came all too quickly. I felt the anxiety rising in me as I ran home to change for the day. Would he still want me after today? If I presented him with more evidence of my inhuman nature? He had taken everything in stride so far—I had no reason to believe anything would scare him away at this point. Still, the fear was still present in the back of my mind, warring fiercely with the hope that he would run; that it would finally be a step too far. For his own good, I could let him run, couldn’t I? That was the right thing to do, after all…

Alice was sitting on the stairs as I left my room, her eyes closed and her head gently rocking from side to side.

When I reached the stairs, her eyes slowly opened, seeing nothing at first, then focusing.

_Good luck today._ She thought, her thoughts swirling around her ever-altering visions.

“Thanks,” I muttered.

_I see more good than bad… that’s something, at least, right?_

“Right.” I nodded, heading down the stairs and breaking into a run as soon as I was clear of the front door.

Charlie was already gone when I got to Beau’s house. I took a deep breath as I crossed the lawn to the front door. All the possibilities of the day were raging in my mind. The deeper implications of what today would mean resounding in every thought.

I knocked on the door. Ha, how human I had become.

The deadbolt rattled on the other side of the door for a moment before it swung open. There he stood, slightly breathless and momentarily anxious. His eyes locked on mine and he breathed out a deep breath, a wide smile on his face. I looked him over, overwhelmed with the reality of how serious today was—how the potential for deadliness hung over his head… but I couldn’t dwell on those thoughts for long, and looking at him, I couldn’t help but laugh.

“Good morning,” I chuckled.

“What’s wrong?” He glanced down at himself, perplexed.

“We match.” I couldn’t stop myself from laughing again. We did match. He also wore a light beige sweater over a white button up shirt, and jeans. He looked over my own clothes and then laughed himself.

He stepped out the house and turned to lock the door. I walked to his decrepit truck and waited at the passenger door, my disdain and disappointment evident on my face.

“We made a deal!” His face was smug as he climbed into the driver’s seat and reached over to unlock my door. I heaved a sigh and climbed into the cab of the truck.

“Where to?”

“Put your seat belt on,” I teased, “I’m nervous already.”

He threw an unhappy look at me while buckling his seatbelt.

“Where to?” He huffed.

“Take the one-oh-one north.”

We crawled along the highway and a glacial pace. We would have made better time if I had gotten out and pushed the truck to our destination. He seemed to be having trouble concentrating on his driving, I watched his face with concern. Was he tired? He seemed to have slept soundly the night before. Perhaps he was nervous about today? Second thoughts, maybe… I couldn’t be sure.

We’d barely made any noticeable progress. “Were you planning to make it out of Forks before nightfall?”

“This truck is old enough to be your car’s grandfather,” he said sharply, “have some respect.”

We finally made it out of the town limits. The lawns and houses giving away to thick underbrush and moss-covered trees. He opened his mouth to ask for further directions, but I was one step ahead.

“Turn right on the one-ten.”

He did as I instructed in silence.

“Now we drive until the pavement ends.” I said, smiling at his suddenly nervous expression.

“And what’s there, at the pavement’s end?” he wondered, anxiety evident in his voice.

“A trail.”

“We’re hiking?” his voice hitched up slightly.

He wasn’t especially coordinated, I expected hiking to be something he’d dislike. I was pleased to know I was correct. “Is that a problem?”

“No.” he lied, poorly.

“Don’t worry, it’s only five miles or so, and we’re in no hurry.” It’s true, I was in no hurry for him to see what a freak I truly was. I’d rather enjoy every second before that, stretch them out for as long as I possibly could. While things were still—well, not quite fine, but whatever they were now.

“Oh, only five miles.” He repeated, like it was so much more than it was.

His face seemed terribly distracted. I tried to figure out the thoughts behind the expression, to no success.

“What are you thinking?” I finally asked.

“Just wondering where we’re going.” It was plausible, but something sounded off in the delivery.

“It’s a place I go to when the weather is nice.” We both glanced out the windows and the quickly retreating clouds.

“Charlie said it would be warm today.” He mused, looking at the sky.

“And did you tell Charlie what you were up to?”

“Nope.” He said, completely unbothered.

Damn. I had hoped he would rethink not telling Charlie.

“But Jessica thinks we’re going to Seattle together?” I remembered he had told her as much, and was cheered by that small consolation.

“No, I told her you canceled on me—which is true.” Again, completely at ease. Was he really so eager to put himself in danger? It was maddening. How could he just go with a vampire somewhere and not tell anyone?

“No one knows you’re with me?” My frustration and despair colored my words with anger.

“That depends… I assume you told Alice?”

“That’s very helpful, Beau,” I snapped.

“I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that.” His tone was reproachful.

He was right to scold me, but I couldn’t fathom how he could possibly let himself fall into the situation he was now in. It made no logical sense. “Are you so depressed by Forks that it’s made you suicidal?” I demanded.

“You said it might cause trouble for you… us being together publicly.” He used my previous words against me, saying it like it was the most logical reasoning in the world.

Always backwards, always the wrong instinct.

“So you’re worried about the trouble it might cause _me_ —if _you_ don’t come _home_?” My tone was sarcastic, I couldn’t control my displeasure at the situation I had created. How idiotic of me to let this happen! What was I doing?

“I’m worried about your family, too.” He said gently. “If this ends badly it hurts everyone. Your family, my family, my friends.”

“Absolutely no sense of self-preservation.” I muttered, probably speaking too quietly and quickly for him to hear.

The silence in the cab hung heavy over us for the rest of the drive. This was wrong. I shouldn’t have asked him to come here with me. No one knew where he was. He must have had some sort of death wish. There was no other explanation for his behavior. Certainly a lack of common sense.

The road ended all too quickly, bottlenecking into a thin foot trail. He parked the truck on the narrow shoulder and stepped out, closing his door with more force than necessary, not looking back at me. He was mad at me. I was only concerned for his safety, and he was mad at me! It was utterly perplexing.

I watched him stretch and look around. He fiddled with his sweater for a moment, before pausing and pulling it off, tying around his slender waist. It was warmer than usual today, after all. I pulled my sweater off, too. Not because of the warmth, but because I wouldn’t need it… not for today’s purpose.

I wondered if it wouldn’t be better to wait here until the clouds cleared completely, to show him the truth before we got too deep into the woods. If I showed him what I looked like in sunlight here, now, he could jump back in his truck and get away. Run away from the freak, the monster. I quickly rolled the sleeves of my shirt up to my shoulders. No, I should let him truly see what a monster I was. I quickly unbuttoned the shirt before climbing out of the truck, slamming the door behind me.

I stared into the deep woods behind the truck for a moment. No. I wouldn’t run away. I would take him where I intended to, and I would show him the truth of me, and he would survive it. I promised myself that. If I gave up now, what was the point of it all? But I shouldn’t be mad at him. After all, I could have insisted he tell someone—I could have made him promise me. I was putting him in this danger, it should be no surprise that he ran into it headlong. It was my job to remove the danger in the first place.

“This way,” I glanced at him over my shoulder.

“The trail?” He scrambled around the truck to meet me, panic clear in his voice.

“I said there was a trail at the end of the road, not that we were taking it.”

“No trail?” The desperation in his voice was comical. Of all the things to be terrified of… A little bit of hiking? It was ridiculous, and yet it was exactly what I’d expect of him. This ridiculous, beautiful boy. Always surprising, always perplexing.

“I won’t get you lost.” I turned to face him, thoroughly amused by his desperate panic.

His breath caught, and he stared at me with wide eyes. What had I done wrong? The sun wasn’t quite through the clouds yet, I hadn’t made any sudden movements, I was smiling… I stare at him, bewildered.

Then I realized. Perhaps the reality, the danger of the situation had hit him. He was scared of me, of being alone—truly alone—with me.

“Do you want to go home?” The pain I felt was heavy in every word, despite my best attempts to beat it back. I could not fault him for wanting to escape me.

“No.” He said, walking forward to my side. His eyes locked on the forest.

“What’s wrong?”

“I’m not a good hiker. You’ll have to be very patient.” His expression seemed off as he looked at me.

“I can be patient—if I make a great effort.” I smiled at him, suddenly feeling very foolish for my outburst in the truck. He had only been trying to protect me. Misguided as that thought was, it came from a caring place, and I had been angry with him for it. “I’m sorry for my behavior in the truck.”

He smiled back, but there was still something off that I couldn’t place despite my best efforts.

“I’ll take you home,” I vowed, to him and myself. I did not want him to be afraid. I did not want him to have to think about what might happen if something went wrong today. He should never feel that way around me. I should be strong enough to ensure that he always felt safe and protected.

His cheeks suddenly began to flush slightly, and he locked his eyes back on the forest. “If you want me to hack five miles through the jungle before sundown, you’d better start leading the way,” he sighed, rolling up the sleeves of his shirt and tightening the knot of his sweater around his waist.

I frowned, trying to understand his strange expressions and reactions to no avail before leading the way into the trees.

He kept pace better than I expected, I made sure to choose the safest path for him; the most even surface, the least amount of foliage. I kept everything I could out of his way, clearing an easier path for him. Occasionally, there was no way to avoid a fallen tree or boulder, but I would gently ease him over, my hand light on his elbow just until he was clear of the debris. Every time I touched him, it felt like electricity. I could hear his pulse spasm at each little touch, and I eyed him with confusion.

Actually, I noticed quite often that we would be walking, with no change to our speed or the terrain, and his heart would suddenly begin pounding against his chest for no apparent reason. How strange, I knew that wasn’t normal. Perhaps he had some sort of heart condition he hadn’t told me about? That didn’t seem likely.

My nerves would start to get the best of me now and then, the closer we got. So I would ask him a question I hadn’t thought of the previous two days. Simple questions; birthdays, old teachers—just something to keep him talking so I could hear his voice and take advantage of the soothing effect it seemed to have on me.

“Did you have any pets growing up?” I asked.

“Sort of…” He hesitated. “Gold fish.”

“That counts. No others?”

“After I accidentally killed the third gold fish in a row, I kind of gave up on the whole idea of pets, in general.” He dead-panned.

His dry tone and dead delivery caught me off guard and I laughed, loudly. It felt good to laugh today.

We hiked for most of the morning, Beau kept a steady, if slow, pace. It was rather enjoyable watching him; the concentrated expression on his face, the overly cautious way he would navigate even the simplest terrain…

After several hours, the light filtering through the leaves began to shift, the bland olive tones shifting into shades of emerald and jade. The sun was out, in full force, and the moment that could change everything was nearly here.

“Are we there yet?” He asked suddenly, a teasing tone to his voice and a mock-scowl on his face.

“Nearly.” _So impatient_ , I smiled. “Do you see the brightness ahead?” I asked, glancing toward the break in the trees some two hundred yards ahead.

He squinted in the direction I had looked, his face disappointed. “Um, should I?”

Ah, so human. “Maybe it’s a bit soon for _your_ eyes.”

“Time to visit the optometrist,” he mumbled. So very, very human.

But after another hundred yards, his expression altered. He could see the change in the light, his face brightened with it. He began to walk faster now, eventually passing me and hurrying on ahead. I let him lead, not eager for what was to follow.

He reached the edge of the ferns and peered out into the bright, unforgiving daylight. A smile spread across his face as he stepped out into the clearing. Into my meadow.

He walked slowly, marveling at the wildflowers, the soft grass, the peaceful tranquility of this, my favorite place to hide away from the cares of the world. Here, in this meadow, I would come to escape everything. I didn’t have to pretend to be anything here, I didn’t have to drown out the voices of the world around me. I could just be myself here; separate and alone. It was my own private sanctuary, hidden from even my family. And I had brought Beau here. I wanted to share it with him. The last of my secrets, in a way. But there was one secret I hadn’t shared with him yet, one important secret he did not know.

I watched him, peaceful, beautiful, and serene. He stretched his arms out, and tilted his head back, letting the sun cascade over his ivory skin. Then he turned halfway, looking behind him. His serene expression vanished, and he spun around scanning the clearing with panicked eyes. He spotted me, hidden in the shadows of the trees at the meadow’s edge.

I wanted to desperately to join him. To close the distance between us. But I was scared. The shadows were where I belonged, not in Beau’s beautiful sunlit world. It was not for me. I could not dare to encroach upon it. And if I did, what would he think? Would he embrace this aspect of my inhumanity as he had all the others? Or would he be repulsed by me, as he should be? I was frozen, unable to move, watching him with wary eyes.

He took a step toward me, his gray eyes curious. Then he smiled, warm and encouraging. He beckoned me with his hand, like my place was there with him in the sun. Like I belonged in his world. He took another step toward me and I held up my hand to stop him. He hesitated, rocking back on his heels, his expression confused.

Suddenly I wasn’t sure of anything anymore. Was I ever that sure to begin with? I didn’t know if I could do this. I didn’t know if I was strong enough. Would I be overcome by this and fail? Ruin the only truly good and perfect thing on this whole earth? I was too far—too deep into this—to run away now, I had to move forward. I imagined if I could see Alice’s mind now, her visions would be unstable and shaky, uncertain and unpredictable. That shaky future was all I had now, so all I could do was step forward.

I slowly removed my shirt, dropping it to the forest floor. I took a deep breath, I closed my eyes, and then I stepped out into the bright glow of the midday sun.


	14. Confessions

Eyes closed, I stepped blindly into the light.

“ _Edward_!”

Beau’s cry of panic and the sound of frantic running startled my eyes open. He was rushing forward to me, the panic obvious on his face. I held up my hand again, palm forward, and he stumbled to a stop.

His eyes were wide, shocked. His heart beating erratically. He stood, staring at me as the light shattered across my skin; crashing in haphazard prisms and fiery sparks. He squinted his eyes as the light blinded him.

After a moment, his eyes seemed to adjust. He scanned my body, taking it all in. Was he horrified? Was he disgusted? He must be repulsed by me, there was no way he wasn’t. His eyes scanned my face. Could he see the fear? Could he see how worried I was by what his response would be? And what’s more, could I retain my tepid hold on my self-control? Standing here, I was the furthest thing from human as I could be right now. I was a monster, a freak… I was a vampire.

He suddenly took another step toward me, I cringed away only slightly.

“Does that hurt you?” he whispered.

“No,” I breathed.

He took another step forward and I let my hand drop to my side. His eyes followed the light as it shimmered down my arm. He circled me examining me closely, but he kept his distance. He must be terrified of me now. There was no way he could take _this_ in stride.

He finished his circle, then closed the last few steps between us. His eyes remained wide and unblinking.

“Edward,” he whispered.

I asked the question I didn’t want to hear the answer to, but I needed to know. “Are you scared now?”

“ _No_.” His voice was soft, full of wonder.

How could he not be scared of me? How could he not be repulsed? It was impossible. I stared into the depths of his diamond eyes, wishing I could read the thoughts behind them. They were the eyes I knew so well and how I knew them best; wide and bewildered.

He reached out toward me, slowly and carefully, watching my face the entire time.

How could he want to touch me? I didn’t understand, but a part of me craved his touch—needed it. I become perfectly still, like the stone I was. His fingertips slowly grazed my shoulder, every movement so controlled and exceedingly careful. His warm fingers singed my icy skin. I could see the sun reflect off my skin and onto his. His face was still unreadable.

“What are you thinking?” I begged, completely lost.

He bit his lip, sorting through his thoughts. “I am…” He paused. “I didn’t know…” Another pause. Then he took a deep breath, and tried again. “I’ve never seen anything more beautiful—it’s like diamonds.”

Beautiful? How could he find me beautiful? He had to be sparing my feelings, there was no way he found this freakish display beautiful. I lifted my hand, and the prism of light that refracted off my skin repulsed me and I dropped it again.

“It’s very strange, though.” I murmured, disgusted by myself.

“Amazing,” he breathed.

“Aren’t you repulsed by my flagrant lack of humanity?” I certainly was.

But he shook his head, unbothered. “Not repulsed.”

I scanned his face with narrowed eyes. “You should be.”

He simply stood there, watching me. Looking at me. Like I was a work of art. It made no sense to me, but he didn’t seem upset, he didn’t seem disturbed. We stayed like that for a long while, the seconds ticked by slowly and furiously fast all at once. Eventually, I slowly sat down on the grass. I felt my anxiety rising in the silence, so I reclined back with one hand behind my head and closed my eyes.

I heard him slowly sit down beside me, probably still staring.

What was he thinking? It was the question I had been asking since that first day. The most vexing question of them all, yet I had never so desperately needed to know the answer. Everything was laid bare now, there were no secrets, no pretenses… I couldn’t pretend anymore with Beau. He knew everything. Yet he was still here, with me, in this clearing. Sitting with a vampire as the sun shone down upon us.

He was so still beside me, that my nerves would occasionally get the better of me. I couldn’t know what he was thinking or feeling. I could only guess… but when had my guesses ever been correct? I never knew with Beau. Whenever my anxiety over the situation threatened to get the better of me I would sing to myself. Sometimes a song I enjoyed, sometimes one of my own compositions. I didn’t think he would notice; I was singing too low for humans to hear.

“What’s wrong?” he asked quietly.

“Wrong?”

“Your lips. They look like they’re trembling.”

Ah, he did notice. What didn’t he notice?

“I’m singing to myself.”

“Singing?” He asked.

“It calms me.” I replied.

The sun was warm upon us, it changed his scent ever so slightly—warming it and enriching it. The gentle breeze that blew through the meadow would catch his scent in the slightly humid air and carry it across me, each time an assault on my senses… Would this be what broke me? Was this what Alice saw? His scent sending me over the edge? I couldn’t allow that to happen. No, what would be best now would be if he ran from me. Escaped from this strange monster lying in the grass before him. He was so still and quiet, if it wasn’t for his steady heartbeat I would have thought he had left me. Perhaps he was considering it. He didn’t speak.

Then… he touched me.

His finger stroked the back of my hand. Careful, gentle, and warm… so warm.

I opened my eyes to watch him. He was sitting with his chin resting on his knees, looking intently at my still hand. He traced his finger along the back of it, like he was looking for some imperfection or detail in it. His eyes flicked from my hand to my face. A slight smile appeared on the corner of his lips, and his eyes were warm and trusting.

“Are you sure I don’t scare you?” I asked, trying to sound teasing, but the curiosity was still there in my voice.

“No more than usual.” He said, casually.

I smiled widely at his even response.

Then he crept closer, just inches, and stretched out his hand to feel my forearm with trembling fingertips. His fingers delicately grazed my arm from wrist to elbow, heat and electricity with each touch. His touch was full of trust and affection. It was bliss. I closed my eyes, reveling in the sensation.

“Do you mind?” He asked, tentatively.

“No. You can’t imagine how that feels.” I breathed the words out in a contented sigh. His touch always had the strangest way of calming me, soothing me. Even at my most… inhuman moments. His touch was a unique kind of magic.

But this touch. This was more than that. His hand trailed over my forearm, tracing lines from the crease of my elbow to my wrist. I felt a strange, unfamiliar ache. A need. I craved more of his touch—more of _this_ touch. I opened my eyes to watch him. His free hand reached toward mine, I surmised that he wanted me to turn my hand over and did it for him, not bothering to do so at a human speed.

He jumped slightly, and his fingers froze on my arm.

“Sorry,” I said, closing my eyes again, relaxing. “It’s too easy to be myself with you.” And it was too easy, especially now.

He lifted my hand and turned it back and forth. I peeked at him through half-open eyes. He didn’t notice me watching him as he pulled my hand closer to his face, squinting at the light glistening off my skin. I wanted to reach out and touch his face, his lips… but I didn’t want to startle him again.

“Tell me what you’re thinking,” I whispered, watching the concentrated expression on his face. His eyes met mine and his expression relaxed. How confusing! How intriguing he was! “It’s still so strange for me, not knowing.”

“You know, the rest of us feel that way all of the time.” He teased, raising an eyebrow.

“It’s a hard life.” I could envy that life, I could only faintly remember the peace of mind I had known in my human life, the perfect silence. “But you didn’t tell me,” I pressed.

“I was wishing I could believe that you were real. And I was wishing I wasn’t afraid.”

Ah, he _was_ afraid. Of course he was. He had every reason to be afraid, yet I hated that he was. I hated myself for making him afraid.

“I don’t want you to be afraid.” Could he hear the pain in my voice? Could he hear how desperately I wanted to tell him that he had no reason to be afraid? That I would never hurt him? But I couldn’t make that promise.

“Well, that’s not exactly the fear I meant,” he said. Of course it wasn’t. “Though its always in the back of my mind.”

Was it? He seemed too at ease now. I’d feel slightly better if I truly believed that he was aware of the danger he was in every second. But what did he mean? I didn’t understand. I sat up, propping myself on my right arm, leaving my left hand in his, not bothering to move like a human. My face was only inches from his, yet he didn’t move. He didn’t so much as flinch. He stared at me, his eyes wide, though not fearful.

“What are you afraid of?” I whispered. If my heart could still beat, I imagined it would be pounding now.

He didn’t answer, but his heartbeat sped. His eyes were locked on mine. His pupils widened. Then he leaned forward, his lips parting.

I panicked. The ache, the hunger—the _new_ hunger, seemed to intensify wildly. It was greater than it had ever been. I wanted to wrap my arms around his body, and pull him into me. I wanted my lips to meet his, to give in to my passion and my hunger, my need for him. But I couldn’t do that. I could not let myself give in to anything for even a second. I would hurt him, I would _kill_ him. Letting go meant losing him, because letting go was too dangerous for him.

I pulled myself back. I practically flew, propelling my body away from him as quickly as I could manage. I stopped a good twenty feet away from him under the shade of the large fir tree that sat on the border of the meadow. I stared at him, wide eyed.

His face was shocked by my sudden retreat. “I’m… sorry, Edward.” His voice was barely above a whisper, but I could hear him easily.

“Give me moment,” I called back. My breath was ragged. My body was so tensed I felt like I could snap at any moment. The ache deep in my body was electric and burning. How close had I just come to killing him? How easily would he have let me? He had shown no signs of hesitation.

Even if I managed to somehow be gentle enough to hold him in any capacity, being that close to him… how could I resist his blood? The moment our bodies touched, the second our lips met, his heart could start beating, the blood pulsing through his veins, and I would snap. I would give in to my monstrous instincts. Just now, the smell of his throat, so close, so warm, was maddening.

After ten seconds I slowly, even slower than my usual human pace, walked back towards him. I stopped several feet away and sank to the ground, crossing my legs. My eyes never left his. I breathed in once, then again. Deep, cleansing breaths. I tried to smile, repenting.

“I am so very sorry.” He still looked shocked, I tried to lighten the mood. “Would you understand what I meant if I said I was only human?”

He didn’t speak, and he didn’t really smile. He simply nodded. His heart started beating harder now, but this was different. It wasn’t excitement. It was fear. True fear. I could smell it in his blood, the adrenaline that pulsed through his veins. I could see the fear creeping into his wide silver eyes.

I saw _him_ then, the monster I had worked so hard to beat back since that first day in that small classroom. He was seething, desperate. I thought my deep love for Beau had been enough to silence him. But he was raging now. Eyes red and wild, teeth snapping. I was a monster, and Beau was meant to be my prey. He had come so willingly to this secluded place with me. Not a single hesitation. My smile changed on my face, it turned harsh and mocking. It became the monster’s smile.

“I’m the world’s best predator, aren’t I? Everything about me invites you in—my voice, my face, even my _smell_. As if I need any of that!” I jumped to my feet, and circled the meadow in less than a second.

“As if you could outrun me,” I laughed, bitter and angry. This is what I was; a monster.

I reached my hand out and ripped a thick branch from the nearby tree. It came off effortlessly, like pulling the petal from a flower, with a loud cracking sound. I balanced it in my hand for a moment, like it weighed nothing, then flicked it away. It flew across the meadow, crashing into another large tree and snapping into splinters. The tree it hit shook and groaned, I could hear the crack in the trunk as it spread through the tree.

In less than a second I was in front of him, a mere two feet away, standing as still as a statue.

“As if you could fight me off,” I said. For what could this boy do? He was fragile as glass, infinitely delicate, devastatingly mortal. A simple flick of my finger could shatter his skull, a twitch of my hand could snap his neck, and a small bite would trigger a hunger and frenzy in me that would leave him lifeless in seconds.

He didn’t move, the fear obvious in his lovely face. His eyes were wide with it. His face was completely colorless, and his body seemed to tremble minutely.

I watched him there. I could end all this right here. Yes, we would have to leave, yes it would destroy everything we had worked so hard to build here… But I could do it. I could give in to the monster, stop trying to fight him. I could kill this boy and drink his blood.

But I couldn’t.

He couldn’t outrun me… but he didn’t run. He couldn’t fight me off… but he wasn’t fighting. He was here. With me.

And I loved him.

I loved him more than anything in this world. His existence meant everything to me. I would do anything, give anything—even my own existence—to keep Beau alive, to keep him safe. Nothing else mattered. I would burn for centuries, I would take any punishment, any suffering, I would throw myself into the sun, tear myself limb from limb, _whatever_ I had to do… I would do all of it for him.

I was decided. I was certain of my path now. Beau would live and, if he would allow it, I would love him.

I watched the monster inside me falter, then writhe in agony before crumbling away into dust. He would not win, he would not even exist anymore.

Beau still sat perfectly still and afraid. I felt shame pour over me.

“Don’t be afraid,” I murmured. “I promise…” No, a promise wasn’t good enough. “I _swear_ not to hurt you.” It was for my benefit as much as it was for his, if not more.

“Please, don’t be afraid of me,” I whispered, taking slow, cautious steps toward him. I didn’t want him to be afraid of me. Never again.

I sat down where I had been before, keeping my pace as slow and human as I could. “Please forgive me.” I said as calmly and kindly as I was able. “I _can_ control myself. You caught me off guard. But I’m on my best behavior now.”

I waited for his answer, but he did not speak.

“I’m not thirsty today, honestly.” I winked, trying to reassure him.

Finally, he laughed. It was shaky and breathless, but it was still a laugh. It was an exquisite sound.

“Are you all right?” I reached my hand out slowly and carefully placed in back in his soft, warm hand.

He looked down at my hand, then back at my eyes. I hoped he could see how truly sorry I was for frightening him, how bad I felt for doing so, and how determined I was to keep my promise. His eyes dropped from mine, and my chest went cold.

But then his hand returned to tracing along mine with his fingertips. He looked up at me and smiled.

I could almost feel myself warm from the inside. I smiled back. He forgave me. He trusted me. I only wondered what I could have possibly have done to deserve his trust.

“So where were we, before I behaved so rudely?”

“I honestly can’t remember.” He half-laughed.

I tried to smile, but I was embarrassed by my actions still. “I think we were talking about why you were afraid, besides the obvious reasons.”

“Oh, right.” He murmured.

“Well?” I pressed.

He dropped his eyes, and ran his finger along my palm. He didn’t speak. His silence gnawed at me. How adrift I was! I wasn’t used to it. This was all completely new to me, the not knowing, the uncertainty…

“How easily frustrated I am,” I admitted with a sigh.

He looked into my eyes, and a strange sort of understanding suddenly appeared in them. A smile danced on the corners of his lips for a moment, then he grew serious. “I was afraid… because of all the ways you could hurt me.”

“Yes,” I agreed slowly. He was finally making sense for a change, but there had to be a catch. He never acted or thought the way I expected or he should. “That is something to be afraid of, indeed.”

“Not just physically.” Was his soft response. “Thought that is a pretty big deal.”

Even that was an understatement.

“You could hurt me in ways I can’t even begin to think about by breaking my heart.” He continued, sadly. “By leaving.”

 

“I should have left a long time ago. I should leave now. But I don’t know if I can.” What I should do and what I wanted were locked in a battle of wills with one another.

“I don’t want you to leave,” his eyes locked on mine, his voice serious.

“Which is exactly why I should leave.” His face dropped. “But don’t worry.” I assured him. “I’m essentially a selfish creature.” A _very_ selfish creature… the _most_ selfish creature on this earth. “I crave your company too much to do what I should.”

Crave was perhaps the wrong word, or perhaps it was the perfect word. I craved him in so many ways, terrible as it was.

“I’m glad.” He said, softly.

“Don’t be!” I pulled my hand from his, gently as I could. My voice had a harsh edge to it, not because I was angry with him, but with myself. “It’s not only your company I crave! Never forget _that._ Never forget I am more dangerous to you than I am to anyone else.” My shame overtook me, I couldn’t look him in the eyes, I had to look away, in the direction of the forest without seeing the trees.

Beau was silent for a moment.

“I never forget,” he finally said, “but I don’t think I understand exactly what you mean—by that last part anyway.”

For all his cleverness and despite being so quick to notice every little thing, sometimes he missed the most obvious things. I looked back at him and smiled.

“How do I explain?” I watched the crease appear between his eyes, signs of apprehension in his face. “And without frightening you again… hmmmm.”

I felt his hands tighten around mine, I looked down, surprised to see my hand in his again. I didn’t even realize I had moved my hand… How easy could be to be with him! Effortless and arduous all at once. But the warmth emanating from his hands into my own hand was a wonderful feeling, like nothing I had known before.

“That’s amazingly pleasant, the warmth.” I sighed.

He smiled at me as I tried to think of the best way to explain my thoughts to him; the most appropriate method. I used the first one that came to mind.

“You know how everyone enjoys different flavors?” I already regretted the analogy. The word _flavor_ was too correct in this situation, but I had already started so I tried to finish. “Some people love chocolate ice cream, others prefer strawberry?”

He nodded.

“Sorry about the food analogy—I couldn’t think of another way to explain.”

He smiled, amused. My answering smile was rueful and apologetic. I thought of a different way of explaining to him.

“You see, every person smells different, has a different essence. If you locked an alcoholic in a room full of stale beer, he’d gladly drink it. But he could resist, if he wished to, if he were a recovering alcoholic. Now let’s say you placed in that room a glass of hundred-year-old brandy, the rarest, finest cognac—and filled the room with its warm aroma—how do you think he would fare then?” Much like myself in his presence, I imagined.

He didn’t respond, his eyes stayed locked on mind. I tried to find the thoughts hidden behind his eyes, to no avail. The way he looked into mine, I almost felt like he was trying to do the same thing.

Looking into his eyes, thinking of how potent and intoxicating his blood was to me, a new—better—analogy came to me.

“Maybe that’s not the right comparison. Maybe it would be too easy to turn down the brandy. Perhaps I should have made our alcoholic a heroin addict instead.”

A smile danced on the corners of his mouth. “So what you’re saying is, I’m your brand of heroin?” His voice was light, teasing.

I smiled at his effort to understand. Perhaps he was too understanding at times, but it was a comfort to me just the same. “Yes, you are _exactly_ my brand of heroin.”

“Does that happen often?” he asked.

Always asking the hardest questions. Emmett’s memories flashed through my mind. I stared off towards the treetops, deciding how to respond.

“I spoke to my brothers about it. Royal didn’t feel like participating.” That was a half-truth; I hadn’t really been able to ask Royal, but he wouldn’t want to talk to me regardless. I chuckled thinking of Royal’s face if I had tried to talk to him about it. “To Jasper, every one of you is much the same. He’s the most recent to join our family. It’s a struggle for him to abstain at all. He hasn’t had time to grow sensitive to the differences in smell, in flavor.”

I felt a twinge of panic, and quickly glanced at Beau. I was speaking too openly, too frankly. I worried I had upset him.

“Sorry.”

“I don’t mind.” He said, shaking his head. “Please don’t worry about offending me, or frightening me, or whichever. That’s the way you think. I can understand,” he paused, “or I can try to at least. Just explain however you can.”

I took a deep breath, trying to compose myself. I had to look at the sky, unable to look at him while speaking about such monstrous things.

“So Jasper wasn’t sure if he’d ever come across someone who was”—I hesitated, trying to choose the correct word, the least offensive—“ _appealing_ as you are to me. Which makes me think not. Emmett has been on the wagon longer, so to speak, and he understood what I meant. He says twice, for him, once stronger than the other.”

“And for you?” He asked.

“Never.” I breathed the word and the silence hung heavy in the air.

No one had ever impacted my world in so many ways as he had; his scent was only one component.

“What did Emmett do?” He asked, suddenly.

Always asking the wrong questions. Emmett’s memories of what had happened when he had caught the scent that broke his self-control flooded through my mind. My hand clenched into a fist in his soft hands. I couldn’t control my expression as I tried to force the thoughts out of my head—I couldn’t let them influence me right now.

“I guess I know,” he said after a moment.

I lifted my eyes to his, I didn’t want him to think badly of Emmett and I wondered if he would judge us for our weaknesses, despite trying our best.

“Even the strongest of us fall off the wagon, don’t we?”

His expression changed, becoming guarded. “What are you asking? My permission?” His voice was sharp at first, then he paused, and began again with a softer tone. “I mean, is there no hope then?” He asked, the crease reappearing between his troubled eyes.

“No, no!” I said, my sorrow obvious in my apologetic voice. “Of course there’s hope! I mean, of course I won’t…” I couldn’t say the words, but my eyes stayed locked on his. “It’s different for us. Emmett… these were strangers he happened across. It was a long time ago, and he wasn’t as… practiced, as careful as he is now.”

I watched his face in silence as he considered my words. The crease stayed between his eyes.

“So if we’d met… oh, in a dark alley or something…” he trailed off.

I was beyond elusion at this point, answering honestly. “It took everything I had not to jump up in the middle of that class full of people and—“ My words caught in my throat as the memories flooded back to me; the way his scent had assaulted me, the different ways I had planned to kill him, the torture of that hour… I tore my eyes from his, unable to look him in the eye when such despicable thoughts were coursing through my mind. I tried to calm myself. “When you walked past me, I could have ruined everything Carlisle has built for us, right then and there. If I hadn’t been denying my thirst for the last, well, too many years, I wouldn’t have been able to stop myself.” I scowled at the trees, my contempt with myself brimming over.

I glanced at him, his eyes were wide, obviously replaying his memories of the day and analyzing them anew with this information. “You must have thought I was possessed.”

“I thought you were a jerk.” He said flatly. “I couldn’t understand why. How you could hate me so quickly…” His voice trailed off.

“To me, it was like you were some kind of demon, summoned straight from my own personal hell to ruin me. The fragrance coming off your skin…” I trailed off, inhaling his scent as it was warmed by the air, I averted my eyes, “I thought it would make me deranged that first day. In that one hour, I thought of a hundred different ways to lure you from the room with me, to get you alone. And I fought them each back, thinking of my family, what it would do to them. I had to run out, to get away before I could speak the word that would make you follow…”

I looked up then to see his expression, his eyes were wide and his expression was astonished and slightly aghast. I stared into those innocent, wide eyes. Hating myself for ever thinking of doing him harm.

“You would have come,” my voice was full of anguish.

His eyes didn’t falter from mine. “Maybe.” His voice was mostly calm, only the slightest waver in his tone.

I dropped my eyes and glowered at our hands. The fire of his, the ice of mine. “And then, as I tried to rearrange my schedule in a pointless attempt to avoid you, you were there—in that close, warm little room, the scent was maddening. I so very nearly took you then. There was only one other frail human there—so easily dealt with.”

He shivered then, I glanced back up at his expression, but his eyes were distant and unfocused. Probably recalling his memories of the moment. He shivered again.

“But I resisted. I don’t know how. I forced myself _not_ to wait for you, _not_ to follow you from the school. It was easier outside, when I couldn’t smell you anymore, to think clearly, to make the right decision. I left the others near home—I was too ashamed to tell them how weak I was, they only knew something was very wrong—and then I went straight to Carlisle, at the hospital, to tell him I was leaving.”

He stared at me in surprise as the memories flashed through my mind.

“I traded cars with him—he had a full tank of gas and I didn’t want to stop. I didn’t dare to go home, to face Esme. She wouldn’t let me go without a scene. She would have tried to convince me that it wasn’t necessary…”

“By the next morning I was in Alaska.” My shame for my abominable cowardice was thick in my voice. “I spent two days there, with some old acquaintances… but I was homesick. I hated knowing I’d upset Esme, and the rest of them, my adopted family. In the pure air of the mountains it was hard to believe you were so irresistible. I convinced myself it was weak to run away. I’d dealt with temptation before, not of this magnitude, not even close, but I was strong. Who were you, an insignificant little human”—I grinned down at him, because now I knew he was the furthest thing from insignificant—“to chase me from the place I wanted to be? So I came back…” I stared off into the sky while the memories continued to burn in my mind.

He was silent, his eyes watching me with curiosity.

“I took precautions, hunting, feeding more than usual before seeing you again. I was sure I was strong enough to treat you like any other human. I was arrogant about it.”

More than arrogant, I was stubborn. I was lucky it was working out as well as it was.

“It was unquestionably a complication that I couldn’t simply read your thoughts to know what your reaction was to me. I wasn’t used to having to go to such circuitous measures, listening to your words in Jessica’s mind… her mind isn’t very original, and it was annoying to have to stoop to that. And then I couldn’t know if you really meant what you said. It was all extremely irritating.” I frowned at this memory, but a smirk appeared on his face.

I continued, “I wanted you to forget my behavior that first day, if possible, so I tried to talk with you like I would with any person. I was eager, actually, hoping to decipher some of your thoughts. But you were too interesting, I found myself caught up in your expression… and every now and then you would stir the air with your hand or your hair, and the scent would stun me again….”

His scent still stunned me, though I was so much stronger now and able to control myself so much better, I was hyper-aware of his scent now.

“Of course,” I said frowning, “then you were nearly crushed to death in front of my eyes, Later I thought of a perfectly good excuse for why I acted at that moment—because if I hadn’t saved you, if your blood had been spilled there in front of me, I don’t think I could have stopped myself from exposing us for what we are. But I only thought of that excuse later. At the time, all I could think was, ‘Not him.’”

I closed my eyes, reliving the moment for the thousandth time. He was quiet for a moment and I desperately wondered what he was thinking.

Finally, he spoke, and his voice was quiet. “In the hospital?”

My eyes flashed to his. “I was appalled. I couldn’t believe I put us in danger after all, put myself in your power—you of all people. As if I needed another motive to kill you.”

We both flinched when the word slipped through my lips. It was an ugly, disgusting word to say. “But it had the opposite effect,” I continued quickly. “I fought with Royal and Jasper when they suggested now was the time... the worst fight we’ve ever had. Carlisle sided with me, and Alice.” I grimaced when I spoke her name, remembering his ghastly visions from that conversation. “Esme told me to do whatever I had to in order to stay.” I said, shaking my head indulgently. “Emmett was mostly indifferent.” I chuckled.

“All that next day I eavesdropped on the minds of everyone you spoke to, shocked that you kept your word. I didn’t understand you at all. But I knew that I couldn’t become more involved with you. I did my very best to stay as far away from you as possible. And every day the perfume of your skin, your breath, your hair… It hit me as hard as the very first day.”

I met his eyes again, my adoration for him brimming from my very core.

“And for all that, I’d have fared better if I _had_ exposed us all at that first moment, then if now, here—with no witnesses and nothing to stop me—I were to hurt you.”

He stared into my eyes, his own wide. “Why?” He asked in a small voice.

“Beauregard.” I said his full name slowly and carefully, reveling in the sensation of every syllable of his name on my lips. The ache to touch him was burning in me again, and I allowed myself that touch this time. I lifted my free hand and ran it through his hair, ruffling his curls playfully. His heart pounded erratically. “Beau, I couldn’t live with myself if I ever hurt you. You don’t know how it’s tortured me.” I dropped my eyes from his, ashamed again. “The thought of you still, white, cold…” Alice’s visions flashed through my mind. “To never see you blush scarlet again, to never see that flash of intuition in your eyes when you see through my pretenses, to never hear you scold me again for my temper… It would be unendurable.”

I lifted my eyes back to his brilliant, warm eyes. “You are the most important thing to me now. The most important thing to me ever.”

It felt like nothing I had known until now to finally say it all out loud. To tell him the depth of my feelings, even if the words paled in comparison to the true depth of my love for him. His heart was pounding against his chest now and his breathing was unsteady. I waited, suddenly feeling anxious that perhaps his feelings for me weren’t as intense, as consuming. His eyes dropped to our hands, I watched as he studied them intently.

“You already know how I feel,” he finally said. “I’m here… which, basically means I would risk a whole lot just to be with you.” He frowned to himself. “I’m an idiot.”

My joy knew no limits in that moment. The utter bliss to know that he felt the same way about me as I did about him. And he was right, he was risking everything being with me—risking his life just to stay with me. While I didn’t approve of his recklessness, I selfishly was glad for it.

“You _are_ an idiot,” I laughed. His eyes met mine, and he laughed too. Easy, simple laughter. It was a such a human moment, laughing at the inhuman. The juxtaposition was ridiculous.

“And so the lion fell in love with the lamb…,” I murmured.

He blushed when I said the word _love_. A smile dancing on the corners of his mouth.

“What a stupid lamb,” he sighed.

“What a sick, masochistic lion.” I stared into the forest. I was sick. It was wrong of me to steal Beau from his human world, selfish and sick of me to want him. This would never be easy—for either of us—he would always be in danger, and I would always want his blood. It was the most masochistic thing I could do to myself. But I didn’t care.

“Why…?” He began, then he paused, hesitant.

I looked back at him and smiled. The sun reflected off my skin onto his face.

“Yes?”

“Tell me why you ran from me before.”

My smile faded, “You know why.”

“No, I mean _exactly_ what did I do wrong? I’ll have to be on my guard, you know? So, I better start learning what I shouldn’t do. This, for example”—he gently stroke the back of my hand—“seems to be all right.”

I smiled again. It was more than all right. It was heaven. “You didn’t do anything wrong, Beau. It was my fault.”

“But I want to help, if I can, to not make this harder for you.”

“Well…” I considered that for a moment. Was there anything he could do? To make this easier? Safer? For _both_ of us? “It was just how close you were. Most humans instinctively shy away from us, are repelled by our alien-ness… I wasn’t expecting you to come so close. And the smell of your _throat_.” I stopped myself, my eyes darting to his face to search for any signs of distress.

He didn’t seem phased. “Okay, then,” he said, his tone casual and flippant. He tucked his chin into his chest. “No throat exposure. Turtlenecks and scarves from now on.”

I laughed at the absurd expression on his face. “No, really, it was more the surprise than anything else.”

I would allow myself to touch him again. I would be strong, I would execute perfect self-control. I raised my free hand and placed it gently on the side of his warm neck. He sat perfectly still—as still as a human could be—his eyes wide and his heart racing.

“You see,” I breathed. “Perfectly fine.”

His heart continued to race, the blood pumping through his veins. The constant, thrumming pulse of his heartbeat seemed to fill the entire meadow.

“The blush on your cheeks is lovely,” I murmured. Gently, slowly, I freed my other hand from his, and he dropped his hands into his lap. Softly, I brushed the skin along his cheekbone, then I held his face between my hands like he was made of precious glass.

My self-control would be without rival. My strength would be absolute. I wouldn’t harm him, but I could still enjoy the unique and tantalizing bouquet of his scent.

“Be very still,” I whispered.

I kept my eyes on his as I leaned toward him. I warred with myself for a moment, then I decided what I would do. I gently rested my cheek against the hollow at the base of his throat. The warmth radiated from him and onto me, warming my cold skin. His scent was everywhere, the thirst burned my throat still, but it wasn’t as unbearable as it had been in the past. I kept my breathing even and calm, the whole time he was completely still, only his heart moved at a frantic pace.

I let my hands slide down from his cheeks to the sides of his neck. He shivered and my breath caught. The shiver was different from the others. It wasn’t from cold or fear. I didn’t understand this shiver, but something about it excited me. My hands didn’t pause as they moved to his shoulders, then down to his waist where I let them rest.

I turned my face to the side, running my nose across his collarbone, inhaling his intoxicating scent. As if I were holding the most fragile work of art, I wrapped my arms around him and pulled him into me, my face resting on his chest.

His heart continued to beat loudly. It was the most beautiful sound in the world. It filled me with warmth and joy, just listening to his heart.

“Ah,” I sighed.

We stayed there without moving. Time didn’t seem to mean anything anymore. Was it hours or only minutes? I wasn’t sure, but I didn’t care. The only thing that mattered was his heart. I listened, enthralled, as it slowly calmed back to a normal pace. His scent cascading around me, his blood pumping so close to me. I thought perhaps I would feel more tempted than I was, but I was beyond pleased to find that I could handle it. I could be close to him and not worry. It was heaven.

Finally, too soon, I released him from my arms.

His eyes were wide still.

“It won’t be so hard again,” I said, pleased with myself.

“Was that very hard for you?” His voice was shaky.

“Not nearly as bad as I imagined it would be. And you?”

“No, it wasn’t bad… for me.” He said it confidently, with a huskiness to his tone.

I smiled at the way he had said it. “You know what I mean.”

He smiled back at me.

“Here.” I took his hand and placed it against my cheek. “Do you feel how warm it is?”

He bit his lip, and his hand was tense. At first I was confused, but I watched his pupils dilate as he gazed into my eyes.

“Don’t move,” he whispered.

I didn’t know what he planned to do, but I felt invincible. I felt like I could do anything. I closed my eyes and stayed perfectly still, like a statue.

He inched closer, and moving as slowly as he could—slower than I could imagine possible for a human—he stroked my cheek, then my eyelid. If I had a heartbeat still, it would be pounding as loudly as his had been a moment before. Then his fingers traced along my nose, then down to my lips. As his warm, electric fingers traced my lips, the yearning ache from deep inside me grew and intensified. I wanted to pull him to me again, to caress his face, to feel the lines and contours of his face… and more.

My lips parted, a new and unknown hunger desperately trying to break free from me. I didn’t understand it—I couldn’t. I had never felt anything like it before. Too soon, he dropped his hand from my face and leaned away.

My eyes opened, and there was a hunger in his eyes, too. The same hunger I felt in me. Could he see it in my eyes? Was that why his pulse suddenly flared?

“I wish,” I breathed, “I wish you could feel the… complexity… the confusion… I feel. That you could understand.” I brushed my hand across his scarlet face.

“Tell me,” he breathed, his hands moving to my shoulders.

“I don’t think I can. I’ve told you, on the one hand, the hunger—the thirst—that, deplorable creature that I am, I feel for you. And I think you can understand that, to an extent. Though—“ I managed a half-smile—“as you are not addicted to any illegal substances, you probably can’t empathize completely. “

His breathing was shaky as he gazed into my eyes.

“But…” I touched his lips, ever so gently, with the tips of my fingers and his pulse began racing again. “There are other hungers. Hungers I don’t even understand, that are foreign to me.”

“I may understand _that_ better than you think.”

Perhaps he did, in fact, I was sure he did. After all, these were the most human of hungers.

“I’m not used to feeling so human. Is it always like this?”

“For me?” He paused, thoughtful. “No, never. Never before this.”

I took his hands from my shoulders and held them between my own. His skin was like silk, his bones like porcelain, and warm as the sun’s rays. The exact opposite of my own, stone, cold hands.

“I don’t know how to be close to you. I don’t know if I can.” I felt weak admitting it, while I had succeeded fairly well so far, it wasn’t a guarantee I’d do as well in the future—with anything… closer. I knew the natural progression of this hunger, this ache, even if I wasn’t accustomed to feeling it. I knew, and I was afraid.

But he kept my gaze locked in his, his eyes full of confidence and assurance. He slowly leaned forward and placed his cheek against my bare chest. I managed to keep my breathing even, though how I managed it was a mystery to me.

“Right now…” He breathed, “this is enough.”

Overwhelmed by his patience and kindness, I wrapped my arms around him and buried my face in his hair.

“You’re better at this than you give yourself credit for,” he sounded amused, pleased.

Was I? Was I actually… _good_ at this?

“I have human instincts—they may be buried deep, but they’re there.”

And so we stayed that way for unknowable amount of time. It was strange, almost like we were frozen there, trapped between our desires and doing the right thing. After a while, the shadows began to encroach upon us. As the darkness crept in and the light faded, I was reminded of that day I watched him sleep in his yard. The shadows stalking forward, sapping the color and life from him… He didn’t belong in that world, he was meant to stay in the light.

“You have to go.” My voice was tinged with sadness, but I didn’t think he could hear it.

“I thought you couldn’t read my mind.” He smiled against my chest.

“It’s getting clearer.” I smiled in response.

A sudden idea sparked in my mind. I placed my hands on his shoulders and gently eased him back away from me so I could see his face.

“Can I show you something?”

“Show me what?” He asked with cautious curiosity.

“I’ll show you how _I_ travel in the forest.” He made a worried face. “Don’t worry, you’ll be very safe, and we’ll get to your truck must faster.” I couldn’t help but smile thinking of how long it would take him to walk back to his truck.

He looked at me for a moment, and when he spoke his voice was wary. “Will you turn into a bat?”

I laughed so hard and loud I wouldn’t have been surprised if someone back in town had heard me. I swiftly retrieved my shirt from the tree line and slipped it back on before he had time to blink.

“Come on, climb on my back.”

He didn’t move, he just stared at me, the doubt and hesitant obvious in his expression. I smiled at his overly-cautious expression and reached my arm out for him. His heart started racing immediately. I gently swung him onto my back and as soon as he was in place he clamped his legs and arms as tightly as he could around me.

“I’m a bit heavier than your average backpack,” he warned.

“Hah!” I rolled my eyes. He weighed nothing to me, and even if he did, I felt stronger than ever in this moment. Stronger physically than Emmett, and stronger-willed than even Carlisle.

Impulsively, as if to prove my point, I grabbed his hand and pressed his palm to my face, inhaling his scent deeply. I was pleased to find I could handle it even better than before.

“Easier all the time,” I mused.

And then I was running.

I enjoyed running more than anything. It was a wonderfully freeing feeling, that instead of running to clear my head, I was running to carry my beloved. I wasn’t running away from Beau, I was running _with_ him. Normally, I wouldn’t mind dashing through a few branches; they’d glance off me as if they were nothing. But I was especially careful with Beau on my back. I imagined how it must feel for him, probably like flying—like racing the wind and beating it.

Beating it. That was what we were doing. Beating the wind, beating the odds. As I ran, I felt his warm body against mine. The hunger ached inside me, I wondered how far I could push myself. I had told Beau I didn’t know how to be close to him… but I wanted to try, and I knew exactly how I wanted to push myself.

Too soon, we were at his old truck. It had only taken a few minutes. I was eager to try out my idea.

“Exhilarating, isn’t it?” I asked, waiting for him to climb down.

He didn’t move, his arms and legs were locked tight around me.

“Beau?” I asked, suddenly anxious, a hundred possibilities of what could be wrong with him running through my head.

“I think I need to lie down,” he gasped, like he hadn’t been breathing.

“Oh, sorry.” I stayed still, waiting for him to let go when he was ready, but he stayed clutched onto me.

“I think I need help,” he said, voice shaky.

It was a humorous reminder of how fragile and human he was. I carefully loosened his grip around my neck, if he resisted at all, I couldn’t tell. Once his arms were free, I pulled him around so I could look at his face, holding him in my arms to assess the situation, his face was pale and he looked disoriented. Carefully, I set him down on the ferns, holding him steady.

“How do you feel?” I asked, still unsure of what was wrong.

He seemed unsure for a moment, he swayed slightly in my arms. “Dizzy, I think.”

Ah, motion sickness. That made sense. “Can I help?” I tried to think of remedies for motion sickness.

“Just give me a minute.” He said, breathing deeply and slowly. “And hold on to me, please.”

That I could do, gladly. I was sorry I hadn’t considered him getting motion sick from the speed. “I guess that wasn’t my best idea.”

“No, it was very interesting.” He tried to sound enthusiastic, but his voice wavered.

“Hah!” I shook my head. “You’re as white as a ghost—no, you’re as white as _me_!”

“I probably should have closed my eyes.”

“Remember that next time,” I cautioned.

“Next time!” He laughed darkly.

I laughed in response, I felt like nothing could dampen my mood.

“I suppose it was better than hiking.” He offered, closing his eyes, focusing on his breathing.

Swiftly, silently, I moved so I was just in front of him. Our faces always inches apart. I felt electricity rumbling deep inside of me.

“Open your eyes, Beau,” I said softly.

He opened his eyes, slowly at first, then they shot open with surprise. His breath caught, and his pulse sped.

“I was thinking, while I was running…” I paused. How did I say it? This was terribly difficult for me!

“About not hitting the trees, I hope.” He narrowed his eyes, slightly.

“No,” I chuckled. “Running is second nature to me, it’s not something I have to think about.”

“Lucky you,” he muttered.

I continued, to excited, to eager. “No, I was thinking there was something I wanted to try.” I took his face in my hands again.

It seemed like his breathing caught… or did it stop? I wasn’t sure, I couldn’t focus as carefully as I’d normally like to. It was like the electricity was coursing through my body, short-circuiting my brain.

I hesitated, suddenly feeling very uncertain. I let myself think about what I was planning to do, imagine every detail of it; how it would make me feel, what the risks were, what the temptations could be. Could I do this? Could I control myself?

I could, I was sure I could.

I pressed my cold lips very softly against the velvet warmth of his.

It was like nothing I had experienced before. Everything else paled in comparison to this moment. The electricity between us that had been so steadily mounting could not be contained any longer. It burst free from the careful containments. There was no stopping it. I could hear his heart pounding, I could feel the heat in his blood. It radiated from him and into me. His heart was beating so hard I could practically feel it in my chest. I didn’t feel like a monster… I felt alive.

His arms were around my neck, his fingers twisting in my hair, like he was as desperate for me as I was for him. It overwhelmed me, it thrilled me.

My hands dropped from his face, sliding down his body to his waist but even that wasn’t enough. My arms curled around him and pulled him into my body. As intense as it was, I was still in control. It was… tenuous, but I was somehow managing.

And then, the most sensual sound escaped his lips. It was somewhere between a whimper and a moan but it was full of absolute, unrestrained pleasure. I heard another sound; a deeper, throatier moan. I realized, aghast, that it had been me. How did I not notice?

I was out of control and I needed to stop. I would hurt him if I didn’t stop myself now. I couldn’t slow us down, my mind and my body—for once in my entire immortal existence—would not operate in unison.

The only thing I could force myself to do was become stone. My hands, still firmly on his waist, gently pushed him back. He seemed unsteady in my arms. He took a deep, shaky breath and released my neck, his hands slid down to my bare chest, burning me with electric heat. Finally, he opened his eyes and stared, bewildered, into mine.

“Oops,” he breathed. “Too much?”

“That’s an understatement.”

My jaw was clenched tightly and I could feel the wild energy in my eyes, but my voice was even.

“Should I…?” He tried to step back, but I didn’t want him to go. I was terrified to have him too close to me right now, but more than that, I was worried that I would lose my mind if he _wasn’t_ near me.

“No, it’s tolerable.” And it was, I just needed to calm myself down. “Wait for a moment, please.”

He watched my eyes carefully, his face apprehensive.

But it was getting easier every second, I felt myself regaining control. Then I realized something that both surprised and pleased me; I craved his presence, his love, and his physical touch more than I craved his blood. I had been slightly careless when we kissed, but I wouldn’t make that mistake again. I would be strong, I would in control. If I could do that… I could kiss him again… the thought put a grin on my face.

“There.” I said, pleased at the way things had turned out.

“Tolerable?” He raised an eyebrow.

“I’m stronger than I thought.” I said, laughing. “It’s nice to know.”

“I wish I could say the same.” He frowned. “I’m sorry.”

He was sorry? For what? It made no sense, he hadn’t done anything wrong.

“No, no. What you did was… You were…” I closed my eyes. There were no words to describe the experience, no words to describe how… _wonderful_ he was. “You did nothing wrong.” I smiled.

Reluctantly, I released him from my hands, and he seemed thoroughly off-balance, more so than usual, that is.

“Are you still faint from the run?” I asked, laughing. “Or was it my kissing expertise?” I felt different, like I had shed much of the monster I had been and was becoming more human every second.

“Don’t get a big head,” he glared at me. “It was a good kiss though.” He admitted with a wistful tone.

I couldn’t have been more pleased with my accomplishment. Not only had I successfully kissed Beau, I was rather _good_ at it.

“Maybe you should let me drive.” I suggested.

“Excuse me?” He frowned.

“I can drive better than you on your best day,” I teased him. “You have much slower reflexes.”

“I’m sure that’s true,” he raised an eyebrow, “but I don’t think my nerves, or my truck, could take it.”

“Some trust, please, Beau.”

His hand went straight to his pocket where his key was. His lips pursed as he considered what I was asking, then he shook his head, his lips pressed into a tight line. “Nope. Not a chance.”

He could be so stubborn! I couldn’t hide my disbelief at his obstinate attitude.

He tried to step around me, toward the driver’s side of the ancient truck. I almost considered letting him pass, but he was still unsteady so I caught him around his waist from behind and pulled him back to me. I wrapped my arms around him and buried my face in his soft hair. He was clearly in no state to drive and I was too excited to stand another glacial crawl back to Forks.

“Beau, I’ve already expended a great deal of personal effort at this point to keep you alive. I’m not about to let you behind the wheel of a vehicle when you can’t even walk straight. Besides,” I grinned to myself, “friends don’t let friends drive drunk,” I chuckled at my quote.

He spun around in my arms, and glared at me. “Drunk?”

“You’re intoxicated by my very presence.” I grinned, feeling smug and playful.

He rolled his eyes, fighting a smile. “I warned you not to get too full of yourself.” Then he sighed, and his teeth chewed on his bottom lip for a moment. He held the truck key high above his head and dropped it, my hand caught it instantly. “Take it easy—“ he warned—“my truck is a senior citizen.”

“Thank you,” I smiled.

“So are you not affected at all?” His voice was bothered. “By my presence?”

What a question! I gazed down at this ridiculous human boy who I loved more than anything. I didn’t answer, instead, I leaned into him and brushed my lips slowly along his jaw, brushing his warm skin from his ear to his chin and back again. He trembled at my touch.

“You have _no_ idea.” I growled the words, a playful growl that held all burning electricity inside my body. My hands slide to his waist and he shivered—no, not a shiver… it was a quiver… of pleasure. I grinned.

“Regardless,” I breathed, “I have better reflexes.”


	15. Mind Over Matter

Despite crawling along the highway at an agonizing speed—solely for Beau’s benefit, not mine—the drive was exhilarating. I felt free and relaxed, driving along the road with my hand on his thigh, his arm around mine. I tried not to stare at him, but I couldn’t help it. The golden sunset wasn’t even a fraction as beautiful as he was—his ivory face, his brown curls blowing in the wind from the open windows, his arm wrapped around mine.

I sang along with the radio as we drove, he watched me, a smile on his face.

“You like fifties music?” He asked.

“Music in the fifties was good. Much better than the sixties, or the seventies, ugh!” I shuddered, recalling how ghastly that entire decade had been—far too opulent and overdone. “The eighties were bearable.”

“Are you ever going to tell me how old you are?” He asked tentatively, like he was worried about upsetting me.

“Does it matter much?” I smiled, amused.

“No, but I still wonder…” He shrugged. “There’s nothing like an unsolved mystery to keep you up at night.”

Didn’t I know it.

“I wonder if it will upset you,” I said, gazing into the sun. I was unsure if I wanted to answer.

“Try me,” He said after a few minutes.

I sighed, and looked into his eyes, trying to find some excuse to avoid the subject, but his eyes were warm and full of patience and understanding. He could handle this, I could see that. I looked back into the setting sun, the light casting light off my skin as I spoke.

“I was born in Chicago in 1901.” I paused, glancing at him from the corner of my eyes. His face was even and patient. I smiled and his understanding and continued. “Carlisle found me in a hospital dying of the Spanish influenza. I was just seventeen, nearly eighteen.”

The tiniest intake of breath made me nervous for a moment, I looked down into his eyes again. I couldn’t tell what he was thinking, whatever it was his face didn’t show anything at all.

“I don’t remember it well—it was a very long time ago, and human memories fade.” Even with the benefits afforded by being one of my kind, even when first changed, human memories are seen through the veil of humanity. From the moment one of my kind opens their eyes, human memories are already fading into obscurity, only the memories of your new life stay vibrant. “I do remember how it felt, when Carlisle saved me. It’s not an easy thing, not something you could forget.”

“Your parents?”

“They had already died from the disease. I was alone. That was why he chose me. In all the chaos of the epidemic, no one would ever realize I was gone.”

“How did he… save you?”

I didn’t want to tell him at first, I didn’t want to explain the process—I didn’t want it to even be an option. I chose my words carefully. “It was difficult. Not many of us have the restraint to accomplish it. But Carlisle has always been the most humane, the most compassionate of us… I don’t think you could find his equal throughout all of history.” I paused, considering how much I wanted to share. “For me, it was merely very, very painful.”

My jaw set, my lips pressed tight. I hoped he wouldn’t ask me for more details… I didn’t want to give them. I glanced, quickly at his expression. His eyes were on fire with curiosity, but I could tell he was doing his best to suppress his questions. I could appreciate his willingness to leave me some secrets… I could give him a few more details. I could tell what the biggest question was, so I answered softly.

“He acted from loneliness. That’s usually the reason behind the choice. I was the first in Carlisle’s family, though he found Esme soon after. She fell from a cliff. They brought her straight to the hospital morgue, though, somehow, her heart was still beating.”

Understanding seemed to light his expression. “So you must be dying, then, to become…” He trailed off, the word hung heavily in the cab of the truck.

“No, that’s just Carlisle. He would never do that to someone who had another choice.” It was something I always admired about Carlisle; that he would never damn someone to this existence if they had another choice. “It is easier he says, though, if the blood is weak.” My eyes followed the long, dark road ahead of us and I was lost in my thoughts.

“And Emmett and Royal?” he asked, quietly.

“Carlisle brought Royal to our family next. I didn’t realize till much later that he was hoping he would be to me what Esme was to him—he was careful with his thoughts around me.” I rolled my eyes at the memories. “But he was never more than a brother. It was only two years later that Royal found Emmett. Royal was hunting—we were in Appalachia at the time—and found a bear about to finish him off. He carried him back to Carlisle, more than a hundred miles, afraid he wouldn’t be able to do it himself. I’m only beginning to guess how difficult that journey was for him.” I threw a pointed look at Beau and brushed his cheek with my hand. Knowing now what I knew, experiencing what I had, I had to acknowledge the newfound respect I had for Royal, as much of a brat as he could be.

“But he made it,” Beau said, looking away from my eyes.

“Yes,” I murmured. “Royal saw something in Emmett’s face that made him strong enough. And they’ve been together ever since. Sometimes they live separately from us, as a married couple. But the younger we pretend to be, the longer we can stay in any given place. Forks seemed perfect, so we all enrolled in high school.” I laughed, as a thought came to me. “I suppose we’ll have to go to their wedding in a few years, _again_.”

“Alice and Jasper?”

“Alice and Jasper are two very rare creatures. They both developed a conscience, as we refer to it, with no outside guidance. Jasper belonged to another… family, a _very_ different kind of family. He became depressed, and he wandered on his own. Alice found him. Like me, she has certain gifts above and beyond the norm for our kind.”

“Really?” He interrupted, fascination in his voice. “But you said you were the only one who could hear people’s thoughts.”

“That’s true. She knows other things. She _sees_ things—things that might happen, things that are coming. But it’s very subjective. The future isn’t set in stone. Things change.”

Alice’s visions of Beau—the ones I hated, the ones where he was like me—flashed through my mind. My jaw locked, and my eyes flashed to his face for just a moment.

“What kinds of things does she see?” He asked.

“She saw Jasper and knew that he was looking for her before he knew it himself. She saw Carlisle and our family, and they came together to find us. She’s most sensitive to non-humans. She always sees, for example when another group of our kind is coming near. And any threat they may pose.”

“Are there a lot of…” He paused, shying away from the obvious word. “Your kind?”

“No, not many. But most won’t settle in any one place. Only those like us, who’ve given up hunting you people”—I glanced in his direction with a sly grin—“can live together with humans for any length of time. We’ve only found one other family like ours, in a small village in Alaska. We lived together for a time, but there were so many of us that we became too noticeable. Those of us who live… differently tend to band together.”

“And the others?”

“Nomads for the most part. We’ve all lived that way at times. It gets tedious, like anything else. But we run across the others now and then, because most of us prefer the North.”

“Why is that?”

I pulled up to his house, and cut the ignition of the truck. We sat in the darkness of the moonless night. A quick glance at the dark porch told me that his father hadn’t arrived home yet. Good. I had more time with him. I was becoming excessively greedy.

“Did you have your eyes open this afternoon?” I teased. “Do you think I could walk down the street in the sunlight without causing traffic accidents? There’s a reason why we chose the Olympic Peninsula, one of the most sunless places in the world. It’s nice to be able to go outside in the day. You wouldn’t believe how tired you can get of nighttime over the years.”

“So that’s where the legends came from?” he surmised.

“Probably.”

“And Alice is from another family, like Jasper?”

“No, and that _is_ a mystery.” One that we had all been trying to solve for years. Alice was content enough with how things were, but a part of her still wondered. She would never tell anyone—even Jasper—how much she wondered about her human life. It was a secret she shared only with me. “Alice doesn’t remember her human life at all. And she doesn’t know who created her. She awoke alone. Whoever made her walked away, and none of us understand why, or how, he could. If she hadn’t had that other sense, if she hadn’t seen Jasper and Carlisle and that she would someday become one of us, she probably would have turned into to a total savage.”

For all my teasing of her, I admired Alice. I admired her patience and her ability to trust in futures that were as permanent as footprints in the sand. The tide always came in, and those glimmering futures were suddenly washed away. And yet, Alice never faltered.

Beau seemed just as engrossed in his thoughts as I was, then, suddenly, his stomach growled loudly. I had forgotten, again, how often humans needed to eat. I would have to be better at that.

“I’m sorry,” I smiled, “I’m keeping you from dinner.”

“I’m fine, really.” He shifted in his seat, his hand lingering over his stomach.

“I’ve never spent much time around anyone who eats food. I forget.” I apologized.

“I want to stay with you.” His voice was quiet, and even in the darkness, I could easily see the crimson color of his cheeks.

“Can’t I come in?” I surprised myself with how forward I was being, but it was too late to take it back and I _did_ want to spend more time with him.

“Would you like to?” He sounded doubtful.

“Yes, if it’s all right.” I said, then I stepped out of the truck and walked around it to open his door for him before my door had finished closing.

He smiled as he slid out of the truck. “Very human,” he nodded toward my hand on the door.

“It’s definitely resurfacing.” Among other human impulses.

He kept glancing at me as we walked toward his front door. There was something strange in his glance, but I couldn’t place it. He seemed deep in thought.

I reached the door first, I grabbed the key I had seen him use from its hiding spot under the eave, unlocked the door, and held it open for him. He paused halfway through the frame.

“Did I forget to lock the door this morning?” The confused expression on his face was adorable.

“No, I used the key from under the eave.”

He blinked once, then stepped inside. He turned the porch light on and turned back to me with his eyebrows raised. Ah. He was wondering how I knew about the key. He had never used it in front of me. I only knew about it from my secret visits to his house.

There was no point in lying. “I was curious about you,” I confessed.

“You spied on me?” His face and voice were incredulous.

I felt the guilty expression spread across my face. I was losing my ability to conceal my emotions around him! “What else is there to do at night?”

I worried that he would press the conversation further. If he was upset that I knew about the key, he probably wouldn’t like that I had been letting myself into his bedroom at night. I was relieved when let out a small sigh and headed toward the small kitchen. I beat him there and sat down in one of the mismatched chairs. He stared at me for a moment before turning to the fridge.

His eyes stayed locked on whatever it was he pulled out of the fridge. He put a chunk of it on a plate and set it in the microwave, watching it revolve. The kitchen was filled with the sharp smell of herbs and spices. My nose wrinkled slightly in response.

I watched him standing there, wondering how upset he would be if I told him about my nightly visits. I didn’t want to think about that, though. Instead, I flipped through what little knowledge I had of human food, wondering if perhaps I could learn to cook for him. He might like that for a change.

“How often?” He suddenly asked, his voice low and even.

“Hmmm?”

He didn’t turn to face me. “How often did you come here?”

There was no avoiding it. I had hoped he wouldn’t ask, but there was no point in lying or avoiding the question. I would be honest.

“I come here almost every night.” I held my breath, waiting anxiously for his response.

He spun around to face me, his face stunned. “Edward!” His voice scolded me. “Why?”

“You’re interesting when you sleep.” I confessed, my guilt apparent on my face. “You talk.” I said quietly.

“No!” He gasped, his face turning scarlet. He stumbled back slightly and caught himself on the countertop. His eyes were wide and angry.

“Are you very angry with me?” It was obvious he was, but I hoped he wasn’t _too_ upset.

“Oh, I’m angry. But how angry I am depends…” He was breathless, his tone was livid.

I waited anxiously. I felt terrible. He had every right to be angry, after all. When he didn’t finish his sentence, I pressed for more.

“On?” I urged.

“What you heard!” He wailed.

I hurried to his side, taking his warm hands in mine.

“Please don’t be upset!” I begged, dropping my face so our eyes were level, trying to hold his gaze. He wouldn’t look straight at me, though. So he was _very_ upset with me. I should confess everything I had heard.

“You miss your mother,” I breathed. “You worry about her. And when it rains, the sound makes you restless. You used to talk about home a lot, but it’s less often now. Once you said ‘it’s too _green_.’” I chuckled softly, hoping I wasn’t upsetting him further.

“Anything else?” He demanded.

I hung my head, I wouldn’t be able to charm my way out of this. “You did say my name,” I said.

He sighed, sounding defeated. “A lot?”

“How much do you mean by ‘a lot,’ exactly?”

“Oh, god!” His face went deep red again.

I pulled him into my, resting his face against my cold chest, feeling terrible.

“I’m so sorry, I know I shouldn’t have. Please, don’t be self-conscious,” I whispered into his ear. “If I could dream at all, it would be of you. And I’m not ashamed of it.”

I was so engrossed in him, that I was almost surprised by the sound of tires on the brick driveway. Headlights flashed through the front windows, and he stiffened in my arms, his heart suddenly pounding.

“Should your father know I’m here?” I wondered.

“I’m not sure…” His eyes lingered on my bare chest and stomach, “probably not like this…”

“Another time then…” I breathed, and gently pulled myself away, hurrying up the stairs to his bedroom.

“Edward!” I heard him hiss.

I chuckled in response as I slipped into his bedroom.

I took my usual place on the old rocking chair and listened intently. I could hear the sound of a key in the door before it opened.

“Beau?” Charlie called as he stepped into the entryway. His thoughts were fatigued this evening.

“In here.” Beau called back, there was a panicked edge to his voice. Hopefully Charlie was too tired to hear, because Beau was a terrible liar. The microwave door opened, followed by the sound of a plate scraping as it was pulled out. Charlie’s footsteps headed toward the kitchen.

“Can you get me some of that? I’m bushed.”

Beau didn’t respond, but I could hear his fork on his plate amidst sounds of him preparing a second plate for Charlie. Then a cabinet door opening, water being poured into a cup—no, two cups. I chuckled quietly to myself when I heard Beau gulp down one of the glasses, he was too nervous! One of the chairs scraped as someone sat in it, I imagined it was probably Charlie.

“Thanks,” Charlie said and I heard the sound of a plate being set on the table.

“How was your day?” Beau asked in a rushed voice. I rolled my eyes. He would need to get better at this.

“Good. The fish were biting…” Charlie did sound pleased. “Did you get everything done that you wanted to?”

“Not really—it was too nice to stay indoors.”

“It was a nice day,” Charlie agreed, then the tone of his thoughts became slightly suspicious. “In a hurry?”

“Yeah, I’m tired.” Beau said. “I’m going to bed early.”

“You look kind of keyed up,” Charlie was most definitely suspicious.

“Do I?” Beau asked, trying to sound casual or surprised I guessed. He failed, though, and just sounded nervous. I could hear the sound of something being scrubbed under water.

“It’s Saturday,” Charlie mused.

“It is.” Beau agreed.

“No plans tonight?” Charlie asked suddenly.

“No, Dad, I just want to get some sleep.”

“So…” Charlie began, “None of the boys in town your type, eh?”

I listened, even more intently, to hear Beau’s answer.

“No, none of the boys in town have caught my eye yet.” I could hear a hint of a smile in Beau’s voice, and he emphasized the word _boys_ in an odd way, but I doubted Charlie caught it.

“I thought maybe that Mike Newton… you said he was friendly.”

I felt a surge of anger hearing the Newton brat’s name, coupled with a surge of jealousy and frustration that Charlie considered Newton a worthy match for his beautiful son.

“He’s _just_ a friend, Dad.” Beau said, a tinge of annoyance in his voice that pleased me greatly. “ _and_ dating my other friend.”

“Well, you’re too good for them all, anyway. Wait till you get to college to start looking.” Charlie sounded pleased.

“Sounds like a good idea to me,” Beau agreed and it sounded like he was heading toward the stairs.

“Night, son,” Charlie called after him, suspicion still in his thoughts.

“See you in the morning, Dad.”

Beau was walking in a strangely labored manner up the stairs. I stood, ready to greet him. My hands moved to button my shirt, but I paused. He seemed to enjoy my shirt being open, and I was already being forward by inviting myself in, wasn’t I? I left my shirt as it was and kicked off my shoes, ready to make myself comfortable.

Beau stepped in the dark room, turning around to loudly close the door. Then, without looking toward the corner where I stood, he sprinted lightly to the window and threw it open, leaning out and scanning the shadows outside. It was amazing how someone so intelligent and observant could miss the ghost white vampire standing in the corner of his room not three feet away from him.

“Edward?” He whispered into the night.

I decided to have some fun, I silently dashed behind him and sprawled out across his bed, clasping my hands behind my head and letting my feet hang off the end. “Yes?” I chuckled.

I spun around, a hand flying to his suddenly pounding heart.

“You scared me!” He scolded.

“I’m sorry.” I had to press my lips together to keep from laughing.

“Just give me a minute to restart my heart.” He breathed slowly.

I moved slowly, so I wouldn’t startle him again. I sat up and leaned forward so I could reach his arms to pull him onto the bed beside me. He seemed to go slightly limp at my touch, in a relaxed way.

“Why don’t you sit with me,” I smiled, checking his heart rate with my hand on his chest, “How’s the heart?”

“You tell me—I’m sure you hear it better than I do.”

He was correct, I could easily hear his heart as it beat erratically against his chest. I chuckled quietly.

We sat for a moment in silence and I listened to his heartbeat calm and slow. After a few minutes his heart sped up again suddenly, and his body seemed to stiffen next to me on the bed.

“Can I have a minute to be human?” he asked, suddenly.

“Certainly.” I gestured for him to proceed.

“Stay,” he said, a serious expression on his face.

“Yes, sir.” I replied, matching his tone and becoming still as a statue perched on his bed. He observed my stillness for a brief second, then dashed to his dresser and pulled out a few garments before hurrying out of the room.

His steps were louder than usual as he moved through the house, then I heard a door bang loudly.

I waited, listening intently. The sound of a sink turning on, a sharp smell of chemical mint—toothpaste, perhaps? After several minutes I could hear the sound of a shower turning on. The smell of the shampoo Beau used wafted from the bathroom. If I listened very carefully I could hear Beau’s heartbeat, slowing and speeding up then slowing again. It was a beautiful sound. Like nothing else.

I wondered where the night would go from here. This was a different experience for me entirely. Of course, I had been here many times but never when Beau was awake. My thoughts became chagrined when I remembered how upset with me he had been to know I was sneaking in every night.

My thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the water shutting off, and after a moment the bathroom door opening. Beau’s clumsy footsteps moved down the stairs.

“Night, Dad.” He called.

“Night, Beau.” Charlie’s voice was even, but the tone of his thoughts were surprised.

Beau’s steps bounded back up the stairs—was he taking them two at a time? His door flew open, and he closed it quickly behind him before turning to look at me. He smiled, and I felt my lips twitch in response.

He smelled especially good, likely the hot water of the shower. His brown hair was damp and hung in his face, the old shirt he was wearing was thin with a few holes and…

Oh.

I only let myself glance at his lack of pants, not wanting to be ungentlemanly. I raised my eyebrows in surprise at his undergarments.

“Sorry,” his face was crimson, “I can put on a pair of sweatpants.”

I felt a strange exhilaration deep in my stomach, not unlike the feeling when I had kissed him before. “Is this what you usually wear?” I asked in a low voice, trying to keep it calm despite my growing excitement.

“You tell me.” He said flatly, narrowing his eyes.

I could only smile sheepishly as I was the guilty party, “You’re always wrapped in a blanket.” I tried to be effusive. The feeling deep inside me was taking over my better judgement—and my gentlemanly urges—and I grinned at him, “But this looks quite good.”

“Thanks,” he whispered, crossing the room to sit back down at my side. He crossed his legs under himself and his eyes dropped to the floor.

“What was all that for?” I asked.

“Charlie thinks I’m sneaking out.”

“Oh.” Is that what Charlie was thinking? His thoughts did have an air of suspicion to them before… “Why?”

“Apparently, I look a little overexcited.”

I gently lifted his chin so I could examine his face.

“Are you?”

“Maybe,” he breathed.

“You look very warm, actually.”

I bent my face slowly to his, laying my cold cheek against his burning skin. He was almost as still as I could be.

I inhaled the warmth of his scent, the heat of skin, “Mmmmmm…,” I breathed out slowly.

His heart was starting to speed up again, and his breathing became strangely irregular. I could feel his jaw flex and relax.

“It seems to be…” he paused, like he couldn’t form the words, “much easier for you, now, to be close to me.”

“Does it seem that way to you?” I murmured, and I let my nose trace the line of his jaw. I reached my hand out and wrapped it around his waist, pulling him closer to me. I was having a hard time being… good. I pressed my lips to the hollow beneath his ear.

“Much, much easier,” he said, breathing in too much without exhaling.

“Hmm.” I couldn’t form sentences, I was too enthralled by him to speak. I wanted more contact with him.

“So I was wondering…,” He began, but stopped short as I began to trace his collarbone with my finger.

I was rather enjoying this. “Yes?” I breathed.

“Why is that,” his voice was shaking, and I felt his skin flush with embarrassment, “do you think?”

I chuckled softly, “Mind over matter.” I said simply, because it was true.

But then he pulled away from me and I froze. The sudden movement startled me and I stopped breathing, clenching my jaw, worried that I had upset him or scared him.

We stared at each other cautiously, his expression seemed slightly incredulous but there was no fear in his eyes. I was confused.

“Did I do something wrong?”

“No—the opposite. You’re driving me crazy,” he explained.

I was driving him crazy? Was he really enjoying this as much as I was? “Really?” I smiled, triumphantly pleased with myself.

“Would you like a round of applause?” He asked sarcastically.

I grinned.

“I’m just pleasantly surprised,” I said. “In the last hundred years or so,” I teased, “I never imagined anything like this. I didn’t believe I would ever find someone who I wanted to be with… in another way than my brothers and sister. And then to find, even though it’s all new to me, that I’m good at it… at being with you…” I let the sentence trail off, because there were no words to describe my absolute pleasure.

“You’re _very_ good at it,” He said pointedly.

I shrugged, casually, grinning widely like it was nothing. We both laughed in hushed tones.

I contemplative look passed over his face, then his skeptic eyes met mine. “But how can it be so easy now? This afternoon…” He trailed off.

“It’s not _easy_ ,” I sighed in response. “But this afternoon, I was still…” How could I explain it to him? “Undecided. I am very sorry about that, it was unforgiveable for me to behave so.”

“Not unforgivable,” he disagreed, no doubt being kind to me.

“Thank you.” I smiled at his gesture. “You see,” I dropped my eyes from his as the shame overtook me, “I wasn’t sure if I was strong enough…” I took one of his hands in mine and pressed it lightly to my cold face. “And while there was still that possibility that I might be… overcome”—I inhaled the intoxicating scent on his wrist, better than any cologne—“I was… susceptible. Until I made up my mind that I _was_ strong enough, that there was no possibility at all that I would… that I ever could…”

I had never had such difficulty expressing myself before, never had to work so hard to find the words. I wondered what he was thinking of me in this moment.

“So there’s no possibility now?” His voice was soft.

“Mind over matter,” I said again, smiling.

“Well, that was easy,” he said in a dull monotone.

I couldn’t contain the laugh that erupted from my lips, but I managed to modulate the volume to a quiet whisper.

“Easy for _you_!” I amended, running my finger along his warm jaw.

But I could not laugh at the darker thoughts that crept into my mind—the self-doubt that shook my confidence.

“I’m trying,” I whispered. “If it gets to be… too much, I’m fairly sure I’ll be able to leave.”

“Fairly sure is… good.”

“And it will be harder tomorrow,” I continued. “I’ve had the scent of you in my head all day, and I’ve grown amazingly desensitized. If I’m away from you for any length of time, I’ll have to start over again. Not quite from scratch, though, I think.”

“Don’t go away, then,” he said quickly, a sound of deep longing in his voice.

The passion in his voice caught me by surprise for a moment, but the sentiment in his voice warmed me from the inside, filling me with excitement. “That suits me,” I smiled. “Bring on the shackles—I’m your prisoner.” I held my wrists out to him and he wrapped his warm, fragile fingers around them. It was humorous, in a way. His hands were no more effective than glass against stone; wall of fragile glass trying to hold back an avalanche. Yet, I would be held here. Not by his strength, for it was nothing compared to my own, but by the love and adoration I felt for him. That love formed manacles stronger than even me. Nothing could break these bonds.

He stared down his hands around my wrists and bit his bottom lip, a strange tenseness in his body. I laughed at his strange expression, trying to understand the thoughts behind it.

“You seem more… optimistic than usual,” he said, seeming distracted. “I haven’t seen you like this before.”

“Isn’t it supposed to be like this?” I smiled. “The glory of first love, and all that. It’s incredible, isn’t it, the difference between reading about something, seeing it in the pictures, and experiencing it?”

“Very different,” he nodded. “More forceful than I’d imagined.”

I continued, speaking my thoughts as soon as they came into my mind. “For example, the emotion of jealousy. I’ve read about it a hundred thousand times, seen actors portray it in a thousand different plays and films. I believed I understood that one pretty clearly. But it shocked me…” A thought that displeased me made me grimace. “Do you remember the day that Mike asked you to the dance?”

He nodded, a bemused expression on his face. “The day you started talking to me again.”

“I was surprised by the flare of resentment, almost fury, that I felt—I didn’t recognize what it was at first I was even more aggravated than usual that I couldn’t know what you were thinking, why you refused him. Was it simply for your friend’s sake? Was there someone else? I knew I had no right to care either way. I _tried_ not to care.” I paused, and decided to have a little fun with him, “And then the line started forming,” I chuckled, anticipating his reaction. He didn’t disappoint me, rolling his eyes in the darkness.

“I waited, unreasonably anxious to hear what you would say to them, to watch your expressions. I couldn’t deny the relief I felt, watching the annoyance on your face. But I couldn’t be sure.

“That was the first night I came here. I wrestled all night, while watching you sleep, with the chasm between what I knew was _right_ , moral, ethical, and what I _wanted._ I knew that if I continued to ignore you as I should, or if I left for a few years, till you were gone, that someday you might say yes to Mike, or someone like him. It made me angry.”

I watched his face as my voice dropped to a soft whisper, “And then, as you were sleeping, you said my name. You spoke so clearly. At first, I thought you’d woken. But you rolled over restlessly and mumbled my name once more and sighed. The feeling that coursed through me was unnerving, staggering. And I knew I couldn’t ignore you any longer.” I paused, listening to the rising rhythm of his heart, it was practically hypnotic.

“But jealousy… it’s a strange thing. So much more powerful than I would have thought. And irrational! Just now, when Charlie asked you about that vile Mike Newton…” I shook my head, trying to calm myself down.

“I should have known you’d be listening.” He sighed.

“I’m sorry.”

“ _That_ made you feel jealous, though, really?” He raised an eyebrow at me.

“I’m new at this; you’re resurrecting the human in me, and everything feels stronger because it’s fresh.”

“But honestly,” his voice was teasing, “for that to bother you, after I have to hear that Royal—Royal, the incarnation of masculine beauty, _Royal_ —was meant for you. Emmett or no Emmett, how can I compete with that?”

I had to smile at the ridiculous of his words. The utterly absurdity that Royal could hold my attention or heart in _any_ capacity. I had to remind myself that Beau only knew of Royal’s physical beauty, and nothing of the vain, obnoxious brat that lay underneath Royal’s entrancing exterior.

“There’s no competition.” I said simply, taking his hands and drawing them around my body, pressing him into my chest. He stayed unnaturally still for him, his breathing seemed slow and careful.

“I _know_ there’s no competition,” he mumbled into my chest. “That’s the problem.”

I rolled my eyes. “Of course, Royal _is_ beautiful in his way, but even if he wasn’t like a brother to me, even if Emmett didn’t hold his heart, he could never have one tenth, no, one hundredth of the attraction you hold for me.” I considered that attraction, the all-encompassing power of it. “For all these years I’ve walked among my kind, and yours… all the time thinking I was complete in myself, not realizing what I was seeking. And not finding anything, because you weren’t alive yet.”

“It hardly seems fair,” he whispered, his face on my bare chest. “I haven’t had to wait at all. Why should I get off so easily?”

“You’re right,” I agreed, amused by his observation. “I should make this harder for you, definitely.” I quickly took both his hands in one of mine and held them above his head, my other hand gently traced down his arm to his neck, gently turning his head to the side so I could run my lips along his jaw. I breathed against his hot skin, “you only have to risk your life every second you spend with me, that’s surely not much. You only have to turn your back on nature, on humanity… what’s that worth?”

“I don’t feel that deprived, to be honest.” He exhaled the words.

His blood was coursing through his veins, his body heat rising. His breathing becoming more labored as his heart started racing, though he was sitting perfectly still. It all reminded me of how human he was. How much he could lose, how much he would be giving up, all to be with me. How was it fair? It wasn’t. He would regret it all one day, I could be sure of that. I knew the ache of missing humanity, perhaps better than anyone else in my family, because I could see the results of that loss in them, in every one of our kind we had met. Beau would regret it one day, he would miss it, and he would resent me for it. He didn’t feel deprived?

“Not yet.” I said, sadly. More to myself, than to him.

He tried to pull his hands free of mine, but his strength was no match for mine. I grinned and chuckled softly as I continued to run my lips across his tensed jaw, then down his neck.

“If it’s any consolation,” he said in a shuddering breath, “You’re definitely making things a lot h—”

The sound of footsteps on the stairs caused me to freeze. I would have to pay better attention, I couldn’t hear Charlie’s thoughts, so I hadn’t realized he had decided to come check on Beau—but listening now, I could hear the tone of suspicion mingled with curiosity surrounding Beau in his mind. Beau became very still in my arms and I released his hands and disappeared into the darkest corner of his room. He sat straight up in his bed, surprise obvious on his face.

“Lie down!” I hissed from the corner.

He rolled onto his side, pulling his worn quilt around him just in time as the door of his room cracked open. Charlie quietly peeked into the room, looking to see if Beau was, in fact, in bed like he said he would be. Beau made an exaggerated show of breathing slowly and evenly, I imagined he _believed_ he looked like he was asleep, I held my breath so as not to chuckle. Only I could hear the loud thumping of Beau’s erratic heartbeat that proved he was awake.

Charlie watched him for a minute, before quietly closing the door and heading back downstairs. Beau stayed perfectly still, until I gently slid into the bed next to him, wrapping my arm around him under the quilt. I pressed my lips to his ear.

“You are a terrible actor—I’d say that career path is out for you.”

“Oh damn,” he muttered, his heart still wild in his chest.

I hummed the lullaby I had composed for him quietly in his ear, trying to calm him down. I paused after a moment, wondering if he’d even appreciate the gesture. “Should I sing you to sleep?”

“Right,” he laughed. “Like I could sleep with you here!”

“You do it all the time,” I replied.

“But I didn’t _know_ you were here,” he said with a sharp iciness to his tone.

I ignored his tone, trying to distract him from his frustration. “So if you don’t want to sleep…,” I trailed off, suggestively. His breath caught.

“If I don’t want to sleep…?” He repeated.

I chuckled. “What do you want to do then?”

He didn’t answer, I wondered what he was contemplating.

“I’m not sure,” he said finally.

“Tell me when you decide.” I breathed against his neck, running my nose along his jaw, inhaling his scent.

“I thought you were desensitized.”

“Just because I’m resisting the wine, doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate the bouquet,” I whispered. “You have a very beautiful smell,” I clumsily tried to explain the different notes and subtleties of his scent, “Like lavender… or freesia with hints of…” I inhaled again, “vanilla, and orange flower,” I sighed. “It’s mouthwatering.”

“Yeah, it’s an off day when I don’t get _somebody_ telling me how edible I smell.”

I chuckled at his disinterested monotone, then I sighed, chagrined by how casually he could say something like that.

“I’ve decided what I want to do,” he said. “I want to hear more about you.”

“Ask me anything.”

He was silent for only a moment. “Why do you do it?” he asked. “I still don’t understand how you can work so hard to resist what you… _are_. Please don’t misunderstand, of course I’m glad that you do. I just don’t see why you would bother in the first place.”

It was such a complicated question. Such a heavy question, but not an unfamiliar question. I considered the best way to answer him. “That’s a good question, and you are not the first one to ask it. The others—the majority of our kind who are quite content with our lot—they, too, wonder at how we live. But you see, just because we’ve been… dealt a certain hand… it doesn’t mean we can’t choose to rise above—to conquer the boundaries of a destiny that none of us wanted. To try to retain whatever essential humanity we can…”

He was completely still, his breathing slow and even.

“Did you fall asleep?” I whispered after a few minutes.

“No.”

“Is that all you were curious about?”

He rolled his eyes. “Not quite.”

“What else do you want to know?”

“Why can you read minds—why only you? And Alice, seeing the future… why does that happen?”

I shrugged, not having a proper answer for him. “We don’t really know. Carlisle has a theory… he believes that we bring something of our strongest human traits with us into the next life, where they are intensified—like our minds, and our senses. He thinks that I must have already been very sensitive to the thoughts of those around me. And that Alice had some precognition, wherever she was.”

“What did he bring into the next life, and the others?”

“Carlisle brought his compassion. Esme brought her ability to love passionately. Emmett brought his strength, Royal his…” I struggled for a kind way to phrase what I wanted to say. “Tenacity. Or you could call it pigheadedness,” I chuckled. “Jasper is very interesting. He was quite charismatic in his first life, able to influence those around him to see things his way. Now he is able to manipulate the emotions of those around him—calm down a room of angry people, for example, or excite a lethargic crowd. It’s a very subtle gift.”

I waited for him to speak again, but he was quiet, his eyes gazing off into his room focusing on nothing.

“So where did it all start? I mean, Carlisle changed you, and then someone must have changed him, and so on….”

“Well, where did you come from? Evolution? Creation? Couldn’t we have evolved in the same way as other species, predator and prey? Didn’t the world produce both the angelfish and the shark, the baby seal and the killer whale? Couldn’t it create both our kinds together?”

“Let me get this straight—I’m the baby seal, right?”

“Right.” I laughed, pressing my lips to his soft hair.

His head twitched slightly, like he wanted to turn to face me but changed his mind. I didn’t like that. I wanted him to face me, I wanted… I wanted more than for him to face me. I prepared myself, flexed my self-control.

“Beau?”

He turned his head and I agilely moved my body slightly on top of his, careful not to crush him under me. One of my hands moved to his cheek and the other rested at his waist. I could do this again. I tried to keep my movement slow and controlled as I leaned forward and pressed my cold lips to his warm, soft lips. His pulse instantly quickened, and his arms wrapped around my neck with halting excitement. He ran his hands through my hair, catching strands between his fingers and it triggered some deep, animalistic urge inside of me; a low growl of pleasure escaped my throat. Beau was becoming more relaxed, more urgent, and I was matching him. Suddenly, he pulled himself away from me, panting softly. He gazed up at me, his eyes wide and hungry. I could see the reflection of my own, frenzied, hungry expression in the silvery pool of his gaze.

“Did I do something wrong?” I asked, confused, my voice husky.

“Not at all,” he breathed, “I need a minute this time.”

I smiled, “Are you ready to sleep?” I worked to calm myself down. “Or do you have any more questions?”

“Only a million or two.”

“We have tomorrow, and the next day, and the next….,” I offered and he smiled euphorically at my words.

“Are you sure you won’t disappear?”

“I won’t leave you.” It was a vow, a promise. Nothing could force me away from this boy.

“One more, then, tonight…” he blushed, the heat radiating off his skin.

“What is it?”

“No, forget it. I changed my mind.”

“Beau you can ask me anything.”

But he didn’t answer, and I felt that familiar swell of frustration, intensified by his sudden quiet.

“I keep thinking it will get less frustrating, not hearing your thoughts. But it just gets worse and _worse_.”

“I’m glad you can’t read my thoughts.” He retorted. “It’s bad enough that you eavesdropped on my sleep-talking.”

“Please?” I begged, using my most persuasive voice.

But he shook his head.

“If you don’t tell me, I’ll just assume it’s something much worse than it is,” I warned. “Please?” I pleaded.

“Well,” he began, tentatively.

“Yes?”

“Okay… Umm…” He fidgeted, nervously. His pulse was quickening. “Wow, this isn’t easy.” He took a deep breath. “Okay, so, you said that Royal and Emmett have been a couple for a long time… right?”

“Yes…” I said slowly, confused.

“They’ve… gotten married?”

“Yes.” I repeated, still utterly lost by his train of thought.

“They’ve…” he struggled for another moment with his words. “Had wedding nights?” he finally asked, and the sudden understanding made me laugh.

“Is _that_ what you’re getting at?”

“Well, I didn’t want to just ask in a gross way.” He shifted.

“Yes, I suppose it’s much the same. I told you, most of those human desires are there, just hidden behind more powerful desires.”

“So, you never… before you became…” he trailed off, blushing furiously.

“No, I didn’t. There was never anyone before you.” I told him honestly, tenderly.

“Oh,” was his soft reply, “good to know.”

“Was there a purpose behind your curiosity?” I knew there was, I knew him well enough by now to know that.

“Well, I guess I did wonder… about you and me… someday…”

My body tensed, I froze. My mind raced at the thought. I had considered it once before, when speaking with Emmett. I knew it was, theoretically, possible. But how could I risk it? How could I be so irresponsible as to risk his very life for pleasure? That would be despicable of me.

“I don’t think that… that… would be possible for us.”

“Because it would be too… difficult for you, if I were that… Close?”

“That’s certainly a problem. But that’s not what I was thinking of. It’s just that you’re so soft, so fragile. I have to mind my actions every moment that we’re together so that I don’t hurt you. I could kill you quite easily, Beau, simply by accident.” I spoke softly, moving my palm to his hot cheek. “If I was too hasty… if for one second I wasn’t paying enough attention, I could reach out, meaning to touch your face, and crush your skull by mistake. You don’t realize how incredibly _breakable_ you are. I can never, never afford to lose any kind of control when I’m with you.”

And my control was always at risk when we were any sort of… intimate. Even a simple kiss, I was fighting to keep myself in control. I couldn’t imagine—couldn’t _fathom—_ how I could possibly keep my control if we were any _more…_ I had to calm myself down.

“Are you scared?” I asked anxiously when he didn’t respond.

He seemed to consider the question for a moment. Then, when his heartbeat had slowed again, he spoke, “No, I’m fine.”

As relieved as I was to hear his words, a gnawing curiosity ate away at me. “I’m curious now, though. Have _you_ ever…?” I trailed off, feeling ungentlemanly saying the words.

“No I haven’t.” he flushed scarlet. “I told you I’ve never felt like this about anyone before, not even close.”

“I know. It’s just that I know other people’s thoughts. I know love and lust don’t always keep the same company.”

“They do for me. Now, anyway, that they exist for me at all,” he sighed.

“That’s nice. We have that in common.” I was unable to hide my profound satisfaction.

“Your human instincts…,” he began. I waited, barely breathing. He continued. “Well, do you find me attractive, in _that_ way, at all?”

I laughed, tousling his nearly dry hair.

“I may not be a human, but I am a man,” I assured him.

“Oh?”

I grinned wickedly, repining his arms above him, leaning in and brushing my lips against his ear, his heart began to race.

“ _Believe me_.” I growled the words into his ear and a shiver ran down his body.

“I do.” The words came out strangled, his heart still beating against his chest.

“I’m not sure you do,” I pressed my lips against his ear. “Shall I tell you all the things I find attractive about you?”

“No, you don’t have to.” He breathed.

I decided I would tell him anyway. After all, any chance I had to extoll on his subtle perfections…

“It was your eyes first. You have beautiful eyes, Beau, like silver and diamonds. Utterly captivating.”

“Er, thank you…”

I chuckled softly. “I’m not alone. Nearly everyone noticed your eyes first.”

“I think you’re making that up.” He argued.

“Hardly,” I brushed my lips against his ear. “Next was your nose,” I raised my hand and gently touched the tip of his perfect nose, “and your chin.” I caught his chin between my finger and thumb. “I could go on and on if you let me.”

“You don’t have to keep going on.” He blushed.

“Mmm…” I breathed into his ear again. “I must tell you, it took me quite by surprise to realize that not only did I find you delicious, but also intelligent, fascinating, and beautiful.”

I thought again of that reckless angel that had formed Beau. The subtle perfection with which he was formed. I would forever begrudge that angel for thrusting Beau into such danger and be forever grateful to that angel for Beau’s creation in the first place.

His face burned in the darkness, I enjoyed the sensation as the heat radiated from him and warmed my own cold skin.

“Oh, and I didn’t even mention your _hair_.” My nose brushed through his hair, inhaling the scent.

“Now you’re just being over the top.”

“I’m truly not. Did you know that your hair is precisely the same shade as a mahogany inlaid ceiling in a monastery I once stayed at in… I think it would be Cambodia now?”

“Um, no, I did not.” A yawn escaped his lips.

I grinned, “I’ve answered your questions, now you should sleep.”

“I’m not sure if I can.”

“Do you want me to leave?” I offered, releasing his hands and slowly pulling myself away from him. It tortured me to even consider leaving, but if it was what was best for him… I would force myself to do anything that was best for him.

“No!” He said too loudly, reaching out and hooking his arms around my neck, pulling me back into him.

I laughed, and all too happily settled back next to him, wrapping him in my arms. I began softly humming his lullaby again.

After a moment, he relaxed completely, and before long he drifted off to sleep in my cold arms.


	16. The Cullens

He slept soundly, barely moving. I worried if my lack of body heat would cause him to feel too cold in the night, but the old quilt wrapped around him seemed to leave him sleeping comfortably.

At first, I thought he might not speak tonight, after all, it had been a long day for him and he was probably exhausted. He surprised me though, like he always did. At first, he simply mumbled incoherently. Soft whispers and groans. Then, the words came.

“Mmm… Edward,” his tone was gentle, wistful, “Edward…. Beautiful…”

Sweet foolish boy, to think me beautiful when it was he who held that title in my eyes.

“Edward…” He sighed again, “Edward…” He took a deep breath, then sighed deeply. “I love you… Edward.”

It was like the entire word had stopped, like nothing else mattered. If my heart could beat it would be pounding harder than his had ever beat in all our time together. If I wasn’t cold stone, I would be on fire. To hear him say the words, to hear them spoken aloud, was the most euphoric feeling I had ever known.

A selfish part of me—more selfish than I had already been—longed to stir him, wake him up and profess my love to him, but I couldn’t be that selfish. I could wait one night to shower him with declarations of my love in the morning. After all, I had waited nearly a century, I could wait a few hours.

He didn’t speak again for the rest of the night, as the night went on I began to wonder what the next step would be for us. Where would we go from here? A smile spread across my face as an idea dawned on me. I glanced at the small clock on his bedside table. It was still a few hours before sunrise. I gently removed myself from the bed, hating leaving him but eager to prepare for my new plan.

Before I left, I leaned forward and gently kissed his forehead, inhaling his scent.

“I love you, Beau Swan.”

I was out the window in less than a second, sprinting with renewed vigor back to my own home.

When I arrived, Alice was standing on the front porch with a wide grin on her face.

“I see that you might be bringing Beau by today,” she said, a bit a smugly, “should I plan a party? I can throw it together by mid-morning!” She was practically bouncing.

“I don’t think a party is necessary, Alice,” I rolled my eyes. “A simple welcome should suffice.”

“But a party would be so much fun! I could decorate the house for him! What’s his favorite flower?”

“Alice, please.” I glared.

“Fine, fine…” she huffed, turning to the front door. She spun back around suddenly. “We could make him dinner! Does he like Italian food?”

I rolled my eyes again and gently pushed her into the house.

Emmett and Royal were sitting on the couch watching the television, Jasper sat in the corner reading. They all turned to look at me, their expressions curious.

“Hey, Edward!” Emmett called, “How’d it go? I’m guessing you didn’t kill him.”

Royal snorted and rolled his eyes.

“Where are Carlisle and Esme?” I asked, ignoring his question.

“What is it, Edward?” Carlisle asked from the bottom of the stairs, Esme at his side.

“I would like to do something, but I would like to ask all of your permission first.” I said slowly.

Royal let out a single, humorless laugh. “That’s nice for a change; consulting us before you make a stupid decision.”

“Royal…” Esme gave him a disapproving glance before turning back to me, “What is it, Edward?”

I took a deep breath, trying to ignore Alice’s building excitement beside me.

“I’d like to invite Beau to come to the house and meet everyone.”

There was a moment of stunned silence. No one spoke, and there were no immediate thoughts to read. It was barely a second, but it felt like an eternity.

Royal, of course, was the first to speak.

“You’ve got to be kidding.” He growled, “You want to bring a human here? _Here_? The one place we don’t have to hide? The one place we can just be ourselves? And you want to bring your little human crush here?”

“Royal, please,” Carlisle sighed. “I think it’s a fine idea. Beau is important to Edward, and he’d like us to meet him. I see nothing wrong with that.”

“Should we make him dinner?” Esme was smiling widely, her mind in a flurry trying to decide how best to welcome Beau.

“That’s what I said!” Alice beamed, “I was thinking Italian food.”

“It would be a good excuse to use the kitchen.” Carlisle mused.

“Does he even like Italian food?” Emmett asked, “Isn’t Beau a French name? Maybe he likes French food.”

“You’re all ridiculous,” Royal huffed, standing suddenly, “If you want to bring the human over then fine—I can’t stop you.” He stomped off towards the garage. “Just know I won’t be here.” He shouted as he slammed the door behind him.

“Aw, hell,” Emmett sighed, “I want to meet the kid but I should probably stay with Roy just to keep him from getting to riled up about everything. Sorry, Edward.”

“It’s fine, Emmett,” I nodded, “I’d rather someone keep Royal in check, to be honest.”

Emmett sighed again and hurried off to find Royal. I turned back to Carlisle and Esme.

“I’m sorry to spring this on you so suddenly.”

“Don’t be sorry, dear,” Esme smiled, “We’re happy to have him over.”

“Perhaps we should all go on a quick hunting trip,” Carlisle suggested coolly, “just to make sure we’re all prepared.”

_I was wondering when they’d start worrying about me_ , Jasper thought, raising an eyebrow at me, _I suppose I shouldn’t take it too personally._

I gave Jasper a slight nod of appreciation and apology. He only laughed.

“Jasper, I don’t mean to sound insensitive—"

He raised a hand to stop me. _Don’t worry, I’ll keep my distance from him._ He rolled his eyes slightly. “Alice, we should get going,” he called out loud, “I think I’m in the mood for something big prey today.”

Alice sighed, “Okay, but let’s not spend all morning hunting. I want to make sure everything is perfect before Beau gets here!”

They were gone in a second, Alice’s mind split between hunting plans and combing through possible visions of the coming afternoon. I was relieved to see that all of her visions showed a successful visit.

“I suppose we should be happy that Alice didn’t mention today going badly,” Carlisle smiled.

“From what I could see, she’s confident it will go well.” I nodded.

“Of course it will!” Esme laughed, “We’ll all be on our best behavior.” She put a gentle hand on my cheek. _I’m so happy for you, Edward. So very happy._

And she was gone, Carlisle gave me a smiling nod before he, too, hurried off.

I went to my room, glancing around at the various journals and CDs strewn about the space. I quickly tidied up before changing into fresh clothes for the day. I had to laugh then at the absurdity of the moment. I was cleaning my room, nervously preparing for my boyfriend to meet my family. How human of me!

I didn’t want to waste any more time than I had to away from Beau, so I hurried back out to see him. It was slightly foolish of me, after all, he was still fast asleep and it would be several hours before he woke up but I hated spending any time away from him. Besides, he had wanted me to stay. I hoped he wouldn’t notice that I had left.

I climbed back through his bedroom window, but not wanting to wake him by climbing into the bed I took my usual place in the corner of the room, sitting in the old rocking chair. I sat and watched him sleep, wondering if he wouldn’t mind this time since he had asked me to stay.

The night crawled on, but eventually reached its end. The sun would be rising soon. I could hear Charlie stir in his room and listened as he prepared for his morning. He left about an hour later, I discreetly glanced out of Beau’s bedroom window and watched as Charlie piled an absurd amount of fishing gear into his cruiser before driving off.

I watched Beau sleep as the muted grey light filled the room. The brighter it became the more he stirred and tossed. A few times he let out a groan, his breathing became less slow and steady as he finally began to stir.

“Oh!” He suddenly gasped, shooting straight up in bed. It seemed to throw him off balance. His hair stuck out in all directions, tangled around itself.

“Your hair looks like a haystack… but I like it.” I smiled from my place in the corner.

His attention shot to me, and his face turned a light shade of pink. He ran his hands through his hair, but the mop of curls could not be tamed so easily.

“You stayed.” He blinked a few times, disbelief in his voice.

“Of course. That’s what you wanted, correct?”

He nodded.

I smiled, elated that his feelings had not changed overnight. “It’s what I wanted, too.”

He tumbled out of the bed, staggering clumsily toward me; I grinned and reached out to take his hands, so I could pull him into my lap. He tentatively rested his head against my shoulder and took a deep breath.

“I was almost sure it was a dream.” He sighed.

“You’re not that creative,” I scoffed, teasingly.

“Charlie!” He suddenly jumped to his feet and stumbled toward the door.

“He left an hour ago, with an amazing amount of gear.”

He stopped, glancing back at me and back towards to the door, looking oddly disoriented.

“You’re not usually this confused in the morning,” I mused, watching him.

His answered me with a stern glare, “I’m still not sure I’m okay with the fact that you know that.”

I could only smile guiltily at him, then I held my arms open, beckoning him to return to me.

He hesitated a moment before answering, “I need another human minute.”

“I’ll wait.” I smiled.

He rushed out of the room and I heard the sound of the bathroom door closing. A faucet turning on, fumbling about, it sounded like he was brushing his teeth. A few splashes of water, then the faucet turned off. The bathroom door reopened, and his steps headed back towards the room.

When he returned, his hair was slightly less wild than it had been before, there was some water on his face, and a smell of mint on his breath. I hadn’t moved, my arms still open for him. I gestured him to join me with my hands and I heard his heartbeat quicken as he approached me.

“Welcome back,” I breathed as I wrapped my arms around him.

We stayed like that for a too short moment before he glanced down at my clothes then up at my hair, a quizzical look on his face.

“You left?” He queried, touching the collar of my shirt.

“I could hardly leave in the clothes I came in—what would the neighbors think?” I teased.

“I didn’t even notice you go.”

“You were very deeply asleep; I didn’t miss anything.” I suppressed a smile. “The talking came earlier.”

He groaned comically. “What did you hear?”

All teasing left my face, my eyes burned with passion as I looked down at him. I was usually hyper-aware of my facial expression, but I wondered what I looked like now. “You said you loved me.”

He turned crimson. “Maybe I do.” He dropped his head, examining the stitches in my shirt. “Besides, you knew that already.”

“It was nice to hear, just the same.”

His eyes met mine, and he ran his hands through my hair.

“I love you,” he whispered.

A thousand ways of expressing my love passed through my mind, all the different ways I could tell him how much he meant to me, all the different ways I could describe my love.

“You are my life now,” was the best response I could give. It was simple, short, but it encapsulated all my feelings perfectly.

I leaned forward and rested my forehead against his as carefully as I could, and we sat there, saying nothing, as the morning light slowly filled the room.

I could have stayed like that forever, but I knew he could not, and I was eager to take him to see my family, slowly, reluctantly, I leaned back and smiled down at him.

“Breakfast time.”

He threw his hand over his neck and his eyes were wild and panicked.

I reflexively flinched, then I saw the smirk dancing at the corners of his mouth and narrowed my eyes at his joke, scowling.

“Come on,” he laughed, “you know that was funny.”

I had suspected he had a slightly morbid sense of humor, I suppose this confirmed it. “I disagree. Shall I rephrase? Breakfast time for the human.”

“Okay.” He chewed his lip for a moment, “I need one more human minute first, if you don’t mind.”

“Of course.”

“Stay.”

“Oh, yes, sir.” I smiled. I was beginning to realize I enjoyed when he was assertive. There was something thrilling about it.

He rushed out of his bedroom and I heard the bathroom door shut. The sound of the faucet for a moment, then the hiss of the shower. Drawers opening and closing… Then a sudden silence. I listened carefully, but I didn’t hear any movement for a good minute or two. I was curious as to what was wrong, and then his footsteps came back toward the room. I thought to ask him what was wrong as he appeared in the doorway, but my voice caught in my throat.

“Um…” He cleared his throat, blushing furiously.

He was still wet from the shower, with only a towel wrapped tightly around his waist. The water glistened off his pale skin. Trailed in beads down his chest, his stomach, down to his waist…

“I… Er…” I had never been so thoroughly stunned in my entire existence. I had never felt so completely conflicted. The urge to cross the room and pull him into my arms, to… to… “Shall we meet in the kitchen, then?” I practically choked out the words.

“If you don’t mind.” He blushed, deeper.

“He’s going to be the death of me…” I muttered to myself before I rose to my feet, rushing past him as quickly as I could. Even then, the temptation was so intense I wasn’t sure how I managed to continue down the stairs and into the kitchen.

“Thanks,” he called down after me.

When I reached the kitchen, I leaned against the counter and took a few cleansing breaths, trying to collect myself. How could he be so thoroughly tempting? It was indecent!

After a few minutes, he ran down the stairs to join me in the kitchen. He was wearing a pair of nicely fitted jeans and the deep blue shirt I enjoyed so much. The deep cut collar showed off his chest nicely, and I couldn’t help but think of the sight of it a moment ago, bare and wet… Damn! I needed to get ahold of myself!

“What’s for breakfast?” He asked, distracting me from my thoughts.

I hadn’t thought of that, I hadn’t cooked anything in… Well, it had been a while. I would have to learn for him. “I’m not sure… What would you like?”

He laughed. “That’s all right, I fend for myself pretty well. You’re allowed to watch _me_ hunt.”

I watched him pull a bowl from a cupboard, then a box of food from the pantry; cereal, it looked like. I sat down at the table and watched him prepare his meal. The smell was slightly off-putting—the chalky smelling squares of the cereal, the strange sour smell of the milk—then he set the food down on the table and paused, glancing down at the empty space in front of me.

“Um, can I… get you anything?” he asked.

I rolled my eyes. “Just eat, Beau.”

He sat down, watching me as he took a bite. It was fascinating watching him eat, I hadn’t noticed it before. The stark difference between us. Me, a creature of violence and blood tearing into my prey and him, calm and easy as he brought the spoon to his mouth.

He swallowed a bit loudly, then cleared his throat. “Anything on the agenda today?”

“Perhaps,” I said slowly. “That depends on whether or not you like my idea.”

“I’m sure I’ll like it,” he said, taking a second bite.

My lips pursed, suddenly feeling nervous. “Are you open to meeting my family?”

His eyes widened, and he suddenly began coughing and choking on his food.

I jumped up, feeling helpless as I reached my hand out toward him. I knew how to save someone from choking in practice, I had learned of course, but I had only ever practiced on dummies, never on an actual human—How much force would I need to exert to help him without hurting him? I was trying to figure out how to strike that balance when he began shaking his head and motioning for me to sit while he coughed.

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” he gasped.

“Please don’t do that to me again, Beau.”

“Work on your timing.” He shot back.

“Perhaps we should have this conversation after your meal.”

“Okay.” He agreed.

I watched him eat in silence. He seemed distracted now, his eyes not focused on anything. I foolishly wondered what he was thinking about. There was no way I could figure it out, for as good as I was getting at reading his expressions and tone I still couldn’t read him when he was so silent and withdrawn like this.

“I’ve finally done it,” I murmured glumly as he pushed the bowl away.

“What did you do?”

“I scared you.”

He shrugged, “I suppose you did.”

“I wouldn’t let anyone hurt you,” I promised him, jokingly.

This apparently had the opposite effect from what I intended as a worried look crept into his expression.

“No one would try, Beau, that was a joke.”

“I just don’t want to cause any problems. Do they even know that I know?”

I rolled my eyes. Always so selfless, always worried about everyone else. “Oh, they’re quite up to date. It’s not really possible to keep secrets in my family, what with our various parlor tricks. Alice had already seen that your dropping by was a possibility.”

A mess of different expressions ran across his face for a moment before he fixed a neutral one in place, even then, his face began to burn scarlet after a second.

I wondered what he could possibly be thinking of that would make him blush like that.

“Just thinking about what Alice might have seen,” he explained, apparently reading me better than I was reading him.

That made sense, and I nodded. “It can feel invasive. But she doesn’t do it on purpose. And she sees so many different possibilities… She doesn’t know which will happen. For example. She saw over a hundred different ways that yesterday _could_ have gone, and you only survived about seventy-five percent of the scenarios.” I could hear the edge creeping into my voice as the tension spread throughout my body. “They’d taken bets, you know, as to whether or not I would kill you.” They had been foolish enough to think I wouldn’t catch them thinking about it. Alice had been largely disapproving of the whole game, but Emmett and Jasper enjoyed their little bets.

“Oh.”

I watched him. “Do you want to know who sided for and against?”

“Um, maybe not. Tell me after I meet them. I don’t want to go into this prejudiced.”

His answer surprised me, I had thought he would put up more of a fight about the whole idea. “Oh, you’ll go then?”

“Oh, why not.” He threw up his hands, letting them drop back into his lap. “It’s traditional, isn’t it?”

I laughed at his response, and he smiled.

“If we’re being traditional,” I asked eagerly, “does that mean I get to meet Charlie, too?”

“He already knows you,” I replied.

“As your boyfriend, I mean.”

His eyes sparked suddenly, and he smiled. “Is that what you are?”

“Of course.” I said, confused. “Is it a question?”

“I suppose we’ve never said the words.”

I laughed again, “I’m your boyfriend,” the words thrilled me as I said them, “And I would like to meet your father.”

“Well, okay.” He said after a moment. “You’ll have to cut me some slack though, I’ve never introduced a boy to my dad and we _just_ sort of opened up the conversation about boys. So I want to ease him into it.”

I could agree to that. “It’s a loose interpretation of the word ‘boy,’ I’ll admit.” I reached across the table and ran a finger down his jaw, “but we’ll spare him all the gory details.” I smiled at him, lifting his chin with my finger. “He will need some explanation for why I’m around here so much. I don’t want Chief Swan getting a restraining order put on me.”

“Will you be here that much?” He asked, eagerly.

“As much as you want me,” I assured him.

“I want you a lot.” He said softly.

I felt a thrill run through me, I grinned and rose to my feet, “Are we ready to go?”

“Sure, do I look decent?” He asked absently, standing and moving towards the door.

I caught him by the waist and pulled him close to me.

“Decent?” I breathed into his ear. “You are utterly indecent—no one should look so tempting, it’s not fair.”

“Temping? I can change…”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” I purred. I pressed my lips to his warm forehead and his scent coursed through me, short-circuiting my better thinking. “Shall I explain how you are tempting me?”

I traced my fingers slowly down his spine and my breathing sped as my excitement began to rise. His hands were limp against my chest, and he seemed unsteady on his feet. I tilted my head slowly, carefully, and pressed my lips to his. My urges overtook me and my lips parted his slightly. In response, he grabbed handfuls of my shirt, and my grip on his waist tightened. I pushed him backwards towards the wall, pinning him there. The gentle impact against the wall, caused him to tighten his grip on my shirt and added an urgency in his body. A growl of pleasure escaped my mouth and my lips moved from his to his jaw, then down his neck. His breathing hitched and quickened, then a shiver ran down his body.

“Okay, okay,” he gasped. “We need to stop.”

“Why?” I groaned into his neck, wanting the exact opposite.

“Because if you keep doing that I’m not going to be able to stop myself from jumping you.”

I reluctantly pulled away, grinning widely. “Perhaps that wouldn’t be the worst thing…” If I was being honest with myself, I needed to stop us while I could, but I desperately wanted to keep going.

“Don’t tempt me.” He groaned.

I smiled, looking him up and down. “I’m very partial to that color with your skin,” I said without much thought, completely distracted by how beautiful he looked. He flushed even deeper, the blood pulsing under his pale skin.

“We need to get going, or we’re never going to leave.” He said, breathlessly. That anxious crease began to show between his eyebrows and he began to chew gently on his lower lip.

“You’re starting to look worried.” I noted quietly.

“I am.”

“Not because you’re headed to meet a houseful of vampires, but because you think those vampires won’t approve of you, correct?” I wondered if my casual use of the word surprised him at all.

“That’s right.” He answered without hesitation.

I shook my head in disbelief. “You’re incredible.”

 

I was grateful he had let me drive. I was too eager and too anxious to handle his unbearably sluggish driving. He watched the scenery pass with wide, observant eyes, like he was trying to build a map in his mind. No one in town knew exactly where the mysterious, strange Cullens lived. We preferred it that way. We liked having our sanctuary, removed and alone, beyond the houses, nestled deep in the forest.

I drove the familiar path automatically, not needing to pay attention. My attention was solely on Beau. He didn’t notice me staring, though, he was too distracted by the misty forest surrounding us. When we turned onto the unmarked, unpaved drive that led to the house, his eyes strained to look ahead into the shady canopy of the trees, trying to find the elusive Cullen home.

I watched his eyes squint, then widen slowly, until he was staring without blinking at the house. It was certainly impressive. Esme had done a remarkable job turning the old historical home into a stylish, modernized abode. Restoring old houses had always been a favorite pastime of hers and was the part of moving she most looked forward to. It was a small consolation to us whenever we had to move to see the joy and excitement light Esme’s eyes whenever we found a new home for her to work on.

“Wow.” Beau breathed.

“You like it?” I smiled.

“It… has a certain charm.”

Always downplaying things. I leaned over and gently kissed his neck. I was out of the car and opening his door before he had even blushed.

“Ready?” I asked, still smiling.

“Not even a little bit—let’s go.” He laughed nervously.

“You look fantastic.” I took his hand to lead him to the front door.

As we walked the shaded path to the porch I could sense the tension in his body. His pulse was becoming less steady, his skin looked paler with every step. I rubbed my thumb in slow, gentle circles along the back of his hand.

I wondered if he was aware of how nervous I was, how anxiously excited I felt.

I opened the door for him.

Any anxiousness he had felt before seemed to momentarily falter as his eyes took in the interior of the house. I hadn’t thought much of it before, at least not in a very long time. The wide-open room that Esme had created by knocking out most of the walls, the back wall entirely made of glass to open up the view all the way to the wide river, the bright airy colors she had chosen for the interior.

_Here he is!_ Carlisle’s thoughts beamed from where he stood next to the grand piano.

_We’re so happy to meet him, Edward_. Esme’s thoughts were bright and ecstatic next to him.

They stayed where they were, smiling and welcoming, but not making any move to meet us. They didn’t want to frighten Beau, but Esme observed his hand in mine and it filled her with a sense of elation and satisfaction.

Beau stared at Carlisle for a moment, then his eyes moved to Esme. I couldn’t help but watch him through her eyes. His face was even with a slight, nervous smile on his lips. His posture was unsure, and his free hand tugged at the hem of his shirt.

“Carlisle, Esme,” I broke the short silence, “this is Beau.”

“You’re very welcome, Beau.” Carlisle took a deliberately slow, measured step as he approached Beau. Slower and more careful than he was even at the hospital. Carlisle tentatively raised his hand, and Beau stepped forward to shake it.

“It’s nice to see you again, Dr. Cullen.”

“Please, call me Carlisle.”

“Carlisle.” Beau grinned, seeming completely at ease. I felt relief pour through me that this was going so well.

_He seems very at ease, doesn’t he?_ Carlisle smiled in his thoughts.

Esme smiled then and took an equally slow step toward Beau, reaching for his hand.

“It’s very nice to know you,” she beamed. _He’s so handsome, Edward._

“Thank you. I’m glad to meet you, too.” Beau smiled back.

_And so polite!_ Esme continued beaming.

“Where are Alice and Jasper?” I said, knowing they were waiting upstairs. It was their cue to come down, rather than an actual question.

_Finally!_ Alice’s thoughts were a cacophony of excitement. “Hey Edward!” She called from the top of the stairs. She dashed down the stairs, almost too fast for Beau’s human eyes to see, coming to a easy stop right in front of him.

_Alice!_

_Oh, no…_

Carlisle and Esme shot warning glances at her, but she paid them no mind. Beau, for his part, seemed completely unbothered by her sudden appearance. He was too comfortable, after all.

“Hi, Beau!” Alice said, and she balanced on her toes to kiss him quickly on the cheek. Esme and Carlisle’s thoughts were beyond reproach now; they were positively staggered. Beau’s eyes looked surprised, too, but there was something else in them I couldn’t quite place… Almost a happiness and relief in their silvery depths.

Despite Beau’s relative calm, I couldn’t keep myself from going tense when his scent washed over Alice. I was thoroughly accustomed to his scent at this point, but it was different experiencing it through someone else’s mind. Alice easily observed the subtler notes to Beau’s fragrance, measured their overall appeal, and pushed it from her mind. Almost like she was noticing some expensive perfume rather than the deliciously tempting scent of human blood. Beau glanced at my face, but I kept my expression even.

“You do smell nice, I never noticed before,” Alice commented, like it was nothing. How easy for her!

No one spoke then, and I felt my anxiety begin to rise. I wasn’t sure what to say, how to maneuver away from the topic of Beau’s scent. When did I become so bad at conversation?

_Need a hand?_ Jasper smirked in his thoughts, measuring the rising tension in the room and countering it with a sense of calm and ease as he stepped into the room. I felt Beau relax at my side, a smile slowly spreading on his face. I raised an eyebrow at Jasper, curiously.

_I won’t be kissing him on the cheek or welcoming him with a hug, but it’s the least I can do, I suppose._ Jasper suppressed a smirk. “Hello, Beau.” He kept his distance, his hands staunchly at his side.

“Hello, Jasper.” Beau smiled shyly back at him, and then at the others. “It’s nice to meet you all—you have a very beautiful home,” he complimented.

“Thank you,” Esme replied. “We’re so glad that you came.” _It’s so brave of him! I can hardly believe it!_

_Edward, I don’t mean to take away from the moment.._. Carlisle was looking at me, a bit to intensely. I worried Beau would noticed, he tended to notice such things. _Before you arrived with Beau, Alice had a vision…_ He recalled the memory for me. Visitors—nomads—coming to the area, they would be coming close to where we were, curious to see this large coven of their kind in such a populated area. I nodded once.

“Do you play?” Esme asked, pulling me from my silent conversation with Carlisle.

Beau was looking at my piano with a strange look of fondness in his eyes.

He looked back at Esme and shook his head. “Not at all. But it’s so beautiful. Is It yours?”

“No,” she laughed. “Edward didn’t tell you that he was musical?”

“No.” Beau turned to me. I tried to look innocent, but he glared at me with narrowed eyes. “I should have known, I guess.”

Esme raised her eyebrows in confusion at his response.

“Is there anything he’s not good at?” Beau asked, in that funny flat way I enjoyed.

Jasper snickered in response, Alice rolled her eyes, and Esme looked at me with an admonishing expression.

“I hope you haven’t been showing off—it’s rude,” she scolded.

“Just a bit,” I laughed.

_Though you do have many talents worth sharing, my dear_.

“He’s been too modest, actually.” Beau said.

“Well, play for him,” Esme encouraged.

“You just said showing off was rude,” I countered.

“There are exceptions to every rule,” she replied. She turned to Beau, smiling. “I’m being selfish. He doesn’t play enough, and I love to hear him.”

“I’d like to hear you play,” Beau looked up at me, an excited expression in his eyes.

“It’s settled then.” Esme pushed me toward the piano. I tugged Beau along, sitting him beside me on the bench.

I gave Beau a long, exasperated look for encouraging Esme like he had, but it was mostly put on. I did enjoy showing off for Beau more than I should; I liked the way he usually responded to me showing off.

I launched into Esme’s favorite song. Beau’s reaction was certainly amusing, his mouth actually dropped open! He leaned closer into me, probably without thinking about it. The others chuckled at his reaction, and I couldn’t help but feel rather smug.

I looked at him casually, reveling in the feeling of it all and winked at him. “Do you like it?”

“Did you write this?”

I nodded. “It’s Esme’s favorite.”

“It’s beautiful.” He murmured softly, watching my hands fly across the keys.

I smiled and slowed the music into his lullaby. His eyebrows raised in surprise as he realized what he was hearing.

“You inspired this one,” I said softly. “This is your song.”

He didn’t speak, he just watched my hands, leaning into me.

_We’ll give you two some privacy_. Carlisle smiled.

_Don’t hog him all day, Edward!_ Alice chided.

_He’s wonderful, Edward, just wonderful. So happy for you!_ Esme beamed.

They all silently slipped out of the room.

“They like you, you know,” I said to Beau. “Esme, especially.”

He glanced behind us, looking for them all.

“Where did they go?”

“Very subtly giving us some privacy, I suppose.”

He sighed. “ _They_ like me. But Royal and Emmett…” he trailed off.

I frowned, I didn’t want him thinking about that. “Don’t worry about Royal, he’ll come around.”

Beau pursed his lips, his expression full of doubt. “Emmett?”

“Well, he thinks _I’m_ a lunatic, it’s true, but he doesn’t have a problem with you. He’s trying to reason with Royal.” I wanted to add that Emmett wanted to be here, but decided against it since it might only serve to tip Beau off as to how bad of a mood Royal was in.

“What is it that upset Royal?”

I sighed, not wanting to waste time talking about all of Royal’s petty little grievances. “Royal struggles the most with… what we are. It’s hard for him to have someone outside know the truth. And he’s a little jealous.”

“ _Royal_ is jealous of _me_?” Beau asked, utterly perplexed.

“You’re human.” I shrugged. “He wishes that he were, too.”

“Oh,” he muttered, seeming surprised by the answer. “Even Jasper, though…”

“That’s really my fault,” I said. “I told you he was the most recent to our way of life. I warned him to keep his distance.”

Beau was silent for a moment, then a slight shudder ran down his body.

“Esme and Carlisle…?” He continued, quickly.

“Are happy to see me happy. Actually, Esme wouldn’t care if you had a third eye and webbed feet. All this time she’s been worried about me, afraid that there was something missing from my essential makeup, that I was too young when Carlisle changed me…. She’s ecstatic. Every time I touch you, she just about chokes with satisfaction.”

“Alice seems very… enthusiastic.” He observed, because he saw everything too clearly.

“Alice has her own way of looking at things,” I said through tight lips, thinking of Alice’s many visions of Beau’s future.

“And you’re not going to explain that, are you?”

I couldn’t explain it to him, not now. But he knew that. Somehow he could sense there was more and that I wouldn’t—couldn’t—tell him… not now, at least. Somehow, the wordless communication that passed between us seemed enough for him for the time being.

“So what was Carlisle telling you before?”

Ah. He _had_ noticed. Of course. “You noticed that, did you?”

He shrugged. “Give me _some_ credit.”

I looked at him for a moment before answering. I supposed it would be better to tell him. No use in hiding it.

“He wanted to tell me some news—he didn’t know if it was something I would share with you.”

“Will you?”

“I have to, because I’m going to be a little… overbearingly protective over the next few days—or weeks—and I wouldn’t want you to think I’m naturally a tyrant.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong, exactly. Alice just sees some visitors coming soon. They know we’re here, and they’re curious.”

“Visitors?”

“Yes… well, they aren’t like us, of course—in their hunting habits, I mean. They probably won’t come into town at all, but I’m certainly not going to let you out of my sight till they’re gone.”

He shivered.

“Finally, a rational response!” I murmured. “I was beginning to think you had no sense of self-preservation at all.”

He stiffened for a fraction of a second, then deliberately looked away from me, his eyes wandering around the room.

I followed his gaze. “Not what you expected, is it?” I asked, my voice a little too smug.

“No,” he said.

“No coffins, no piled skills in the corners; I don’t even think we have cobwebs… what a disappointment this must be for you,” I continued, teasing.

He ignored me. “It’s so light… so open.”

My voice was more serious now. “It’s the one place we never have to hide.”

The part of Beau’s lullaby I liked the least was here now; the end. I couldn’t shy away from the inexorable ending. The melancholy sound of a life in the balance...

“Thank you,” I said quietly after the final note had ended. He raised his hand suddenly to his face, wiping away small, glistening tears.

I took his face in my hands, gently brushing the tears from the corners of his eyes with my thumbs.

“So human.” I marveled.

He gazed at me, his eyes full of questions and I gazed back for a long moment before smiling.

“Do you want to see the rest of the house?”

“Only if there’s coffins.”

I laughed, loudly, taking his hand in mine and leading him away from the piano.

“I’ll see what I can do.” I chuckled.

I led him up the stairs, and his hand trailed along the railing. He looked around at the walls and floorboards, his eyes wide and curious.

“Royal and Emmett’s room… Carlisle’s office… Alice and Jasper’s room…” I casually gestured as I led him past the doors.

He stopped suddenly at the end of the hall, I turned to look at him. He was staring with a bewildered expression at the large crucifix hanging on the wall.

“You can laugh,” I offered. “It _is_ sort of ironic.”

He didn’t laugh, though. He stared at the old, wooden cross. His hand reached out, one finger extended, as if to touch the dark wood but he didn’t. He just stared.

“It must be very old,” he guessed.

I shrugged. “Early sixteen-thirties, more or less.”

He broke away from the cross to stare at me.

“Why do you keep this here?”

“Nostalgia. It belonged to Carlisle’s father.” I replied.

“He collected antiques?” He offered, doubt in his voice.

“No. He carved this himself. It hung on the wall above the pulpit in the vicarage where he preached.

I look of shock passed over his face, and he quickly returned his gaze to the old cross. His brow furrowed slightly like he was trying to work something out in his head. He didn’t speak again. He just stared with a mixed expression of awe and shock on his face.

“Are you all right?” I asked, growing worried.

“How old is Carlisle?” He asked quietly, distracted.

“He just celebrated his three hundred and sixty-second birthday,” I answered. Beau looked back at me, his silver eyes full of questions.

I watched him carefully as I spoke, trying to read every reaction in his face.

“Carlisle was born in London, in the sixteen-forties, he believes. Time wasn’t marked as accurately then, for the common people anyway. It was just before Cromwell’s rule, though.”

Beau’s face didn’t betray anything. I guessed he was working to keep his expression even.

“He was the only son of an Anglican pastor. His mother died giving birth to him. His father was an intolerant man. As the Protestants came into power, he was enthusiastic in his persecution of Roman Catholics and other religions. He also believed very strongly in the reality of evil. He led hunts for witches, werewolves… and vampires.” Ah. There was a reaction. It was slight—miniscule—but I did see it. I continued without pausing.

“They burned a lot of innocent people—of course the real creatures that he sought were not so easy to catch.

“When the pastor grew old, he placed his obedient son in charge of the raids. At first Carlisle was a disappointment; he was not quick to accuse, to see demons where they did not exist. But he was persistent, and more clever than his father. He actually discovered a coven of true vampires that lived hidden in the sewers of the city, only coming out at night to hunt. In those days, when monsters were not just myths and legends, that was the way many lived.

“The people gathered their pitchforks and torches, of course”—I let out a brief, dark laugh—“and waited where Carlisle had seen the monsters exit into the street. Eventually one emerged.”

Beau leaned in closer to me, hanging on every word.

“He must have been ancient, and weak with hunger. Carlisle heard him call out in Latin to the others when he caught the scent of the mob. He ran through the streets, and Carlisle—he was twenty-three and very fast—was in the lead of the pursuit. The creature could have easily outrun them, but Carlisle thinks he was too hungry, so he turned and attacked. He fell on Carlisle first, but the others were close behind, and he turned to defend himself. He killed two men, and made off with a third, leaving Carlisle bleeding in the street.”

I stopped myself from relaying too much. Beau didn’t need to know the gritty details of the transformation. I didn’t _want_ him to know those details.

“Carlisle knew what his father would do. The bodies would be burned—anything infected by the monster must be destroyed. Carlisle acted instinctively to save his own life. He crawled away from the alley while the mob followed the fiend and his victim. He hid in a cellar, buried himself in some rotting potatoes for three days. It’s a miracle he was able to keep silent, to stay undiscovered.

“It was then, and he realized what he had become.”

Beau’s eyes were wide, a mounting expression of horror deep within them. I broke off from the story, concerned.

“How are you feeling?” I asked.

“I’m fine.” He sounded like he meant it honestly. He chewed on his lip for a moment, his eyes full of curiosity.

I smiled. “I expect you have a few more questions for me.”

“Just a few.”

I smiled wider. I enjoyed his curiosity now. It was humorous, really. Before, I would have been horrified at his eagerness to learn more about me and my family—about what we were. But now, when he already knew so much, it was practically a relief to share it all with someone else.

“Come on, then,” I led him down the hall toward Carlisle’s office. “I’ll show you.”


	17. Carlisle

I led him back down the hallway to Carlisle’s office, pausing outside the door in order to give Carlisle an opportunity to invite us in.

“Come in,” Carlisle’s voice called, a tinge of amusement barely detectable in his tone.

I opened the door to Carlisle’s office. I watched Beau’s eyes drift to the high-vaulted ceilings, the tall windows, and the dark paneled walls. His eyes widened as he took in the sheer number of books Carlisle kept in the space.

Carlisle sat in his usual place behind the mammoth mahogany desk. He placed a bookmark in his book and set it down on the desk, his eyes rising to meet Beau’s who was watching him with a strange mixture of surprise and confusion.

“What can I do for you?” Carlisle asked as he rose from his leather chair.

“I wanted to show Beau some of our history,” I said. “Well, your history, actually.”

“We didn’t mean to disturb you,” Beau apologized.

 _So polite._ “Not at all. Where are you going to start?” Carlisle smiled.

“The Waggoner,” I replied, gently placing my hand on his warm shoulder and turning him around back towards the entrance to the room. I could hear his heart flutter slightly at my touch and my mind reeled with questions. What did I do? I tried not to think about it, lest I become frustrated.

Beau’s eyes scanned the wall, taking in the nearly overflowing number of framed pictures. His eyes scanned past the brightly colored paintings and lingered on the paintings with more monochromatic tones, which made sense; he liked earth tones. His eyebrows furrowed slightly, like he didn’t understand something about the paintings, but I couldn’t begin to guess his thought process.

I led him toward the far-left side, stopping him in front a small square painting. His eyes studied the varying tones of sepia, the details of the miniature city of steeply slanted roofs and thin spires. I knew the painting well, having spent more time than I cared to admit studying the towers and the little bridge that crossed the wide river.

“London in the sixteen-fifties,” I said, answering Beau’s unspoken question.

“The London of my youth,” Carlisle added, from just behind us. Beau flinched in surprise; I realized he wouldn’t have heard Carlisle approach. I took his hand and gave it a gentle, reassuring squeeze.

“Will _you_ tell the story?” I asked. Beau twisted slightly to look at Carlisle.

Carlisle met Beau’s glance and smiled. “I would,” he replied. “But I’m actually running a bit late. The hospital called this morning—Dr. Snow is taking a sick day. Besides, you know the stories as well as I do,” he added, grinning at me now. _And I’m sure Beau would rather hear them from you._

I raised my eyebrow slightly at Carlisle, letting a tiny smirk dance on the corner of my lips. I couldn’t be disappointed, more time alone with Beau was all I could ask for in this world.

Carlisle gave Beau another warm smile and left the room.

Beau’s eyes returned to the small painting and lingered for a long moment.

“What happened then?” he finally asked, staring up at me, catching me watching him. “When he realized what had happened to him?”

I reluctantly pulled my eyes away from his beautiful face and back to the paintings on the wall. This time my eyes landed on the large landscape slightly to the right of the first painting. Beau’s eyes followed mine and in my peripheral vision I could see him study the dull fall colors of the empty, shadowed meadow in the painting.

“When he knew what he had become,” I said quietly, “he rebelled against it. He tried to destroy himself. But that’s not easily done.”

“How?” Beau asked suddenly, like he hadn’t meant to say it aloud. The shock was evident in his voice.

“He jumped from great heights,” I told him, impassively. “He tried to drown himself in the ocean… but he was young to the new life, and very strong. It is amazing that he was able to resist…” I paused, the word caught in my throat slightly, “feeding…” I quickly glanced down to check for a reaction, but Beau didn’t seem bothered, so I continued, “while he was still so new. The instinct is more powerful then, it takes over everything. But he was so repelled by himself that he had the strength to try and kill himself with starvation.”

“Is that possible?” Beau’s voice was faint.

“No, there are very few ways we can be killed.”

He opened his mouth to ask a question about what I had said, but I continued before he could. I didn’t want to answer such a dark question.

“So he grew very hungry, and eventually weak. He strayed as far as he could from the human populace, recognizing that his willpower was weakening, too. For months he wandered by night, seeking the loneliest places, loathing himself.

“One night, a herd of deer passed his hiding place. He was so wild with thirst that he attacked without a thought. His strength returned, and he realized there was an alternative to being the vile monster he feared. Had he not eaten venison in his former life? Over the next months, his new philosophy was born. He could exist without being a demon. He found himself again.

“He began to make better use of his time. He’d always been intelligent, eager to learn. Now he had unlimited time before him. He studied by night, planned by day. He swam to France and—”

“He _swam_ to France?” Beau interrupted, an incredulous look on his face.

“People swim the Channel all the time, Beau,” I reminded him, amused by his expression.

“Okay, but people don’t _swim_ to _France_.”

“Swimming is easy for us—”

“What isn’t easy for you?” He griped.

I waited this time before speaking, amused by his put out expression.

He glanced up at me, huffed quietly, and locked his eyes back on the painting. “I won’t interrupt again, I promise.”

I chuckled at his petulant tone and finished. “Because, technically, we don’t need to breath.”

“You—” He whirled around to face me.

“No, no, you promised.” I laughed, lightly pressing my finger to his warm lips. “Do you want to hear the story or not?”

“You can’t spring something like that on me and then expect me not to say anything,” he mumbled against my finger.

The feeling of his warm breath against my cold skin was thrilling in an odd way, but not nearly enough. I wanted to feel the warmth of his lips, of his breath against my own lips. I collected my thoughts enough to lift my hand and move it to rest against his neck.

“You don’t have to _breathe_?” He demanded.

“No, it’s not necessary. Just a habit.” I shrugged. It had been so long now that even I hadn’t thought much about it.

“How long can you go… without _breathing_?”

“Indefinitely, I suppose; I don’t know. It gets a bit uncomfortable—being without a sense of smell.”

“A bit uncomfortable,” he echoed the words in disbelief.

His expression stopped me then. His eyes were wide with confusion and his expression betrayed his shock. I could feel my own expression grow somber as I studied his face. I dropped my hand to my side, feeling myself turned to stone as studied his face. The silence continued to drag on, I couldn’t bring myself to speak.

“What is it?” Beau finally whispered, putting his hand on my cheek.

His touch was as electric as ever, and I couldn’t stay so serious when he touched me so gently, I sighed. “I keep waiting for it to happen.”

“For what to happen?”

“I know that at some point, something I tell you or something you see is going to be too much. And then you’ll run away from me, screaming as you go.” I managed half a smile, but it was just a show, I was sure he could see how it didn’t meet my eyes. “I won’t stop you. I want you to run, I want you to be safe. And yet, I want to be with you. The two desires are impossible to reconcile…”

I trailed off, watching his face, examining every minute change. I waited for his response.

“I’m not running anywhere,” he promised.

“We’ll see,” I smiled sadly back at him.

He frowned at me. “So, go on—Carlisle was swimming to France.”

I paused, trying to reclaim my momentum in the story while simultaneously trying to comprehend how Beau could remain so calm after being confronted with everything he had seen and learned so far. Trying to pick up the story again, my eyes reflexively flickered to another painting on the wall—the most ostentatious of them all. Beau’s gaze followed mine to the colorful, ornately framed painting, his expression became confused again as he tried to make sense of the bright figures and swirling colors.

“Carlisle swam to France, and continued on through Europe, to the universities there. By night he studied music, science, medicine—and found his calling, his penance, in that, in saving human lives.” I couldn’t conceal my own awed reverence for Carlisle in my expression. “I can’t adequately describe the struggle; it took Carlisle two centuries of torturous efforts to perfect his self-control. Now he is all but immune to the scent of human blood, and he is able to do the work he loves without agony. He finds a great deal of peace there, at the hospital…” I wondered if I could ever gain that level of self-control, if ever I could be around Beau and keep myself so contained and controlled that his blood didn’t claw at my basest most animalistic desires. I realized Beau was watching me expectantly and continued my story. I tapped the gilded frame of the huge painting in front of us.

“He was studying in Italy when he discovered the others there. They were much more civilized and educated than the wraiths of the London Sewers.”

I gestured to the top part of the portrait where the quartet of unnaturally beautiful figures stood on a balcony looking down in silent judgement of the rabble below. Beau leaned forward and examined the faces carefully, after a moment he let out a startled laugh with his eyes fixed on the golden-haired man.

“Solimena was greatly inspired by the Carlisle’s friends. He often painted them as gods,” I chuckled. “Aro, Marcus, Caius,” I said, indicating the other three figures standing with Carlisle. “Nighttime patrons of the arts.”

“What happened then?” Beau wondered aloud, his fingertip hovering just a centimeter from the two dark-haired and pale blond figures I had named.

“They’re still there.” I shrugged. “As they have been for who knows how many millennia. Carlisle stayed with them only for a short time, just a few decades. He greatly admired their civility, their refinement, but they persisted in trying to cure his aversion to ‘his natural food source,’ as they called it. They tried to persuade him, and he tried to persuade them, to no avail. At that point, Carlisle decided to try the New World. He dreamed of finding others like himself. He was very lonely, you see.

“He didn’t find anyone for a long time. But, as monsters became the stuff of fairy tales, he found he could interact with unsuspecting humans as if he were one of them. He began practicing medicine, but the companionship he craved evaded him; he couldn’t risk familiarity.

“When the influenza epidemic hit, he was working nights in a hospital in Chicago. He’d been turning over an idea in his mind for several years, and he had almost decided to act—since he couldn’t find a companion, he would create one. He wasn’t absolutely sure how his own transformation had occurred, so he was hesitant. And he was loath to steal anyone’s life the way his had been stolen. It was in that frame of mind that he found me. There was no hope for me; I was left in a ward with the dying. He had nursed my parents, and knew I was alone. He decided to try…”

I was barely speaking above a whisper now as I trailed off. My eyes drifted, unseeingly, to the west facing windows. My mind was full of memories, not only my own hazy recollections but also Carlisle’s crystal-clear memories that I had seen in his mind. His had become the ones I usually looked back on now, as my actual memories were not nearly as solid.

Beau was quiet at my side. I turned back to him and his patient, adoring expression brought a smile to my face.

“And so we’ve come full circle,” I finished.

“Have you always stayed with Carlisle, then?” He wondered.

“Almost always.” I put my hand on his waist and pulled him alongside me as I walked through the door. His eyes lingered back on the wall of paintings, a curious expression in his face. I hoped he wouldn’t question any further about the tenure of my stay with Carlisle.

“Almost?” He asked, because of course he would.

I sighed, reluctant to answer, but the more I kept from him the more curious he would be, and I knew better than most how persistent he could be. “Well, I had a typical bout of rebellious adolescence—about ten years after I was… born… created, whatever you want to call it. I wasn’t sold on his life of abstinence, and I resented him for curbing my appetite. So I went off on my own for a time.”

“Really?” His voice was full of intrigue and curiosity, rather than the fear or repulsion I had expected. Never the reaction I expected.

I continued to lead him up the next flight of stairs, trying to understand his backwards reactions, he only seemed vaguely aware of his surroundings, like he was deep in thought himself.

“That doesn’t repulse you?” I finally questioned.

“No.” He said simply.

“Why not?”

“I guess… it sounds reasonable.” He shrugged, casually.

I let out an unbecoming bark of a laugh at his relaxed tone. We had reached the top of the stairs now, and I led him down the paneled hallway. Since there was no point in being effusive with him, I decided to continue with my story.

“From the time of my new birth,” I murmured, “I had the advantage of knowing what everyone around me was thinking, both human and non-human alike. That’s why it took me ten years to defy Carlisle—I could read his perfect sincerity, understand exactly why he lived the way he did.

“It took me only a few years to return to Carlisle and recommit to his vision. I thought I would be exempt from the… depression… that accompanies a conscience. Because I knew the thoughts of my prey, I could pass over the innocent and pursue only the evil. If I followed a murderer down a dark alley where he stalked a young girl—if I saved her, then surely I wasn’t so terrible.”

Beau shivered, and I wondered what he was thinking about. No doubt he was imagining me as a monster stalking the streets in the dead of night, vicious and feral hunting down poor defenseless humans. I tried not to think about it and continued, hoping the ending of my story would redeem me in his eyes.

“But as time went on, I began to see the monster in my eyes. I couldn’t escape the debt of so much human life taken, no matter how justified. And I went back to Carlisle and Esme. They welcomed me back like the prodigal. It was more than I deserved.”

We’d come to a stop in from of the last door in the hall—my door.

“My room,” I informed him, trying to sound casual as I opened the door and led him through.

He looked around my bedroom, his eyes immediately shot to the full wall window facing south. His eyes danced along the winding Sol Duc River, across to the untouched forest to the Olympic Mountain range. He seemed surprised by them for some reason I couldn’t understand.

He pulled his eyes away from the strangely surprising mountains to study the western wall of my room. He took in the shelves of CDs, the sound system, the leather sofa, the thick golden carpet, and the wall curtains.

“Good acoustics?” He offered.

I chuckled and nodded.

I picked up the remote and turned the stereo on, filling the room with soft jazz music. He smiled slightly, then wandered over to my collection of music. He stared at the different CDs for a long while, turning his head to the left then the right. His eyebrows furrowed the longer he looked, I wondered what he could possibly be thinking. I stood and watched him, letting myself revel in the moment. I let the relief wash over me, the sense of near-normalcy that I now felt as he stood here in my room, in my family’s home, like I was a normal boyfriend—like we were a normal couple. There was more than relief, there was a feeling—an emotion I was largely unaccustomed to.

“How do you have these organized?” He asked, pulling me from my thoughts.

“Umm, by year, and then by personal preference within that frame,” I answered absently, still deep in thought.

He turned, and something in my expression made him tilt his head to the side and raise an eyebrow.

“What?”

“I was prepared to feel… relieved. Having you know about everything, not needing to keep secrets from you. But I didn’t expect to feel more than that. I _like_ it. It makes me…” I racked my brain for the word and it came to me in a blissful rush, “happy.” I shrugged, smiling slightly.

“I’m glad,” he said, smiling back. I sensed relief in his expression.

This should have made me happier, and yet… I couldn’t help but feel that it would be fleeting, that it would all come crashing down without warning.

He noted the change in my own expression. I realized my smile had faded and my forehead was creased.

“You’re still waiting for the running and the screaming, aren’t you?” He sighed.

Correct, as usual. I couldn’t stop the smile from touching my lips and nodded.

“I’m not scared of you.” He said simply, assuredly.

This stopped me short, my eyebrows raised in disbelief. He wasn’t scared of me? Impossible. He had to be bluffing! No… He wasn’t bluffing. He truly was not scared of me. This made me smile, wide and wickedly, as an impulse flashed through me.

“You _really_ shouldn’t have said that,” I chuckled. If he wasn’t scared of me, then I would _show_ him what he should be afraid of.

I growled, low and throaty; my lips curled back over my venomous teeth. I shifted into a half-crouch, like I did when I hunted. I kept my body tense and ready.

“Um… Edward?”

He wouldn’t see me leap at him—I was far too quick for his eyes to register the movement. I caught him, mid-leap, in the gentlest grip I could manage and flipped him over towards the leather sofa. I set him down on his back so gently I wondered if he even felt it. He stared up at me with bewildered eyes as I crouched over him. My knees were tight against the sides of his hips, locking him in place, and my hands were planted on either side of his head so that he couldn’t move. I bared my teeth just inches from his face.

“Wow,” he breathed. It wasn’t fear, per se, it was… excitement? I felt a surge of excitement pulse through me.

“You were saying?” I growled playfully.

“That you are a very, very terrifying monster,” he said, chuckling.

“Much better.”

“Um.” He struggled against me, vainly. “Can I get up now?”

“Mmm…” I smiled, my impulsive side winning out over my better judgement. “I don’t think I’m done with you yet.”

I gently ran my lips along his jaw, then down his perfect neck. His heart thudded against his chest as I softly kissed his neck.

“Edward!” He laughed, futilely struggling against my grip. His heartbeat was erratic and wild as shivers ran down his body.

I could only laugh in triumph as I kissed his throat.

“Can we come in?” Alice’s voice sounded from the hall.

Damn! I groaned. How did I not hear her and Jasper coming before now? Well, I was _quite_ preoccupied, I supposed. I quickly rearranged us on the sofa, placing him next to me and draping his legs over mine just as Alice and Jasper appeared in the doorway. Beau’s cheeks were an exquisitely tempting shade of scarlet, which tempered my annoyance with amusement and not just a little desire.

“Go ahead.” I sighed.

Alice was doing a good job of keeping her thoughts jumbled enough that I couldn’t be sure _exactly_ what she was thinking, she glided to the center of the room and folded herself onto the floor. I wondered what she was keeping from me, but the tenor of her thoughts seemed excited, so it wasn’t bad news. Jasper, however, could not keep his thoughts contained.

 _Have you no shame?_ Jasper’s thoughts matched his shocked expression. _Having him that close… and, boy, the mood is… tense… in here._ He stared at my face and I wondered how the atmosphere must feel to him.

“It sounded like you were having Beau for lunch,” Alice cooed, “and we came to see if you would share.”

Beau stiffened for a moment and I grinned widely, both at Alice’s teasing and Beau’s reaction. He noticed my reaction and forced himself to relax.

“Sorry, I’m not in the mood to share,” I answered, pulling Beau even closer to me—recklessly, dangerously close. “In fact, I wasn’t even done myself.”

Alice shrugged, “Fair enough.”

“Actually,” Jasper said, surprising me by smiling himself as he walked into the room, “Alice says there’s going to be a real storm tonight, and Emmett wants to play ball. Are you game?”

Beau’s expression was one of blank confusion, like he didn’t understand anything Jasper had just said.

I couldn’t hide my excitement, but I hesitated for a moment.

Alice understood immediately. “Of course you should bring Beau,” she chirped. Jasper shot a slightly wary glance at her, which she ignored. Whatever Jasper was concerned about, he somehow managed to keep it from his thoughts.

“Do you want to go?” I asked Beau, not bothering to hide my excitement.

“Sure.” He smiled up at me. “Um, where are we going?”

“We have to wait for thunder to play ball—you’ll see why,” I promised him.

“Will I need an umbrella?”

We all laughed at his fantastically pragmatic question.

“Will he?” Jasper asked Alice.

“No.” She very sure, and I watched the vision with her. “The storm will hit over town. It should be dry enough in the clearing.”

“Good, then.” Jasper was warming up, and the enthusiasm in his voice radiated out of him into the room. I imagined even Beau was beginning to feel it now.

“Let’s go see if Carlisle will come.” Alice lept up from her seated position to the door in one quick, fluid motion.

“Like you don’t know,” Jasper teased, as they swiftly departed. _Enjoy yourself, Edward_. Jasper thought as he quietly closed the door.

“What will we be playing?” Beau asked.

“ _You_ will be watching,” I answered. “ _We_ will be playing baseball.”

His expression was skeptical. “Vampires play baseball?”

“It’s the American pastime,” I said with mock solemnity.

He snickered at me, and I grinned in response.

“Now,” I smiled, feeling reckless and irresponsible again, “where were we?”

He giggled in a poor show of protest as we tumbled around the couch while I kissed his neck and jaw.

The worst was over now, and we had everything to look forward to.


	18. The Game

It had just begun to drizzle when I turned onto Beau’s street. I had been looking forward to spending a few more hours alone with him at his house, but my plans had to quickly change.

“Ridiculous, over-bearing, old fool.” I muttered harshly as I glared at the black, weathered Sedan parked in the driveway of the Swan residence.

 _Beau’s with Edward Cullen again… Damn…_ The thoughts of the skinny boy standing behind Billy Black’s wheelchair were the first I heard. _I’m not thrilled that Beau seems serious about this guy… but the Cullens seem cool, I don’t get why Billy is being so weird about it. Man, this is so embarrassing._

Naïve child. At least Billy kept his reasons to himself.

“This is crossing the line.” I growled.

“He came to warn Charlie?” Beau guessed, his tone slightly horrified.

I could only nod as I met Billy Black’s gaze through the rain and narrowed my eyes.

Beau seemed to contemplate something for a moment, he shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

“Let me deal with this,” He suggested, sounding anxious.

“That’s probably best.” I agreed, which seemed to surprise him. “Be careful, though. The boy has no idea.”

“ _Boy_? His name is Jacob.” He scolded me.

Something about his vaguely… protective tone bothered me for some reason, but I couldn’t understand why so I simply shrugged.

He sighed and put his hand on the door handle.

“Get them inside,” I instructed, “so I can leave. I’ll be back around dusk.”

“Do you want my truck?” he offered.

I rolled my eyes. “I could _walk_ home faster than this truck moves.”

“You don’t have to leave,” he said, hopeful.

I smiled at the wistfulness in his expression. “Actually, I do. After you get rid of them”—I threw an angry glare in the Black’s general direction—“you still have to prepare Charlie to meet your new boyfriend.” I grinned widely at this, showing all my teeth.

He groaned, comically. “Thanks.”

I smiled fondly at him. “I’ll be back soon,” I promised.

That feeling of reckless impulsiveness surged through me again. I glanced only briefly at the porch, disregarding the superstitious old fool completely. I swiftly leaned in and planted a gentle kiss just under the edge of Beau’s jaw. Beau’s heart started pounding in an panic and his eyes darted to the porch.

Billy’s thoughts were unavoidably loud, but largely unintelligible. Just a mess of panic and anger. I ignored him as best I could, feeling slightly smug.

“ _Soon_ ,” Beau stressed as he opened the door and stepped out into the rain.

I watched him as he half-ran through the light rain toward the porch. It felt like a part of me was leaving with him. It was an excruciating ache.

 _I guess it’s pretty serious…_ The disappointed thoughts of the boy—Jacob—surprised me. I felt the same strange feeling I felt after Beau had scolded me. It confused me.

“Hey, Billy. Hi, Jake.” Beau greeted them with an overly cheerful tone. I was going to need to help him work on his acting skills. “Charlie’s gone for the day—I hope you haven’t been wating long.”

“Not long,” Billy Black’s tone was low and subdued. His dark eyes bore into Beau. I felt a fresh pain of anger. He continued. “I just wanted to bring this up.” He indicated a brown paper sack resting in his lap.

“Oh, thanks,” Beau said, glancing briefly at it. “Why don’t you come in for a minute and dry off?”

Well done, Beau, well done.

The Elder Black continued to scrutinize Beau’s every movement as he unlocked the door and indicated that they should enter first.

“Here, let me take that,” Beau offered, turning to shut the door. He glanced back up at me one last time. I hoped my expression wasn’t terribly unpleasant.

As soon as the door clicked shut, I swiftly opened the door and dashed out of the cab. I should have hurried straight home, but I felt the need to stay close—to protect Beau. I quietly rounded the little house and hid myself among the dense foliage, listening intently. I couldn’t see them through the small kitchen window.

“You’ll want to put it in the fridge,” I heard Billy say, “It’s some of Harry Clearwater’s homemade fish fry—Charlie’s favorite. The fridge keeps it drier.”

“Thanks,” Beau said again, but with genuine feeling this time. “I was running out of new ways to fix fish, and he’s bound to bring home more tonight.”

“Fishing again?” Billy asked. “Down at the usual spot? Maybe I’ll run by and see him.”

I grabbed a branch from the nearest bush and pulverized it in my hand to try and calm myself. Billy Black was going to be a real problem, I could tell. I watched Beau through Billy’s eyes.

“No,” Beau said quickly, his expression hardening.  “He was headed someplace new… but he didn’t tell me where.”

 _Hm. He could be lying._ Billy mused. “Jake,” he said, his eyes still on Beau. “Why don’t you go get that new picture of Rebecca out of the car? I’ll leave that for Charlie, too.”

 _Are you kidding me?_ “Where is it?” The boy asked, his voice morose as his thoughts.

“I think I saw it in the trunk,” Billy answered. “You may have to dig for it.”

The boy begrudgingly slouched back out into the mounting rain. He couldn’t see me from my hiding spot, so I remained still in the bushes, carefully watching Beau through Billy’s scrutinizing gaze.

They faced each other in silence. After a few long seconds, Beau shifted suddenly and turned to head into the kitchen. Billy followed in his wheelchair.

Beau shoved the brown parcel into the refrigerator and spun around to face Billy, whose thoughts were momentarily silent.

“Charlie won’t be back for a while.” Beau said, an almost rude tinge to his voice.

Billy nodded in agreement but said nothing. His thoughts were suspicious, without the words.

“Thanks again for fish fry,” Beau said, obviously hinting that it was time for Billy to leave.

Billy continued nodding. Beau sighed and folded his arms across his chest.

 _Hm. He’s got fire in him_. Billy thought to himself. A poor, understated assessment of Beau, to be sure. _Time for light conversation is done._

“Beau,” he said aloud, and then hesitated.

Beau waited. I had to keep myself from laughing at his harsh expression.

“Beau,” Billy began again, “Charlie is one of my best friends.”

“Yes.”

He spoke each word with careful distinction. “I noticed you’ve been spending time with one of the Cullens.”

“Yes,” Beau repeated curtly.

“Maybe it’s none of my business,” Billy continued, feeling off-put by Beau’s tone, “but I don’t think that is such a good idea.”

“You’re right, Billy,” Beau agreed, sharply. “It _is_ none of your business.”

Billy was thrown by Beau’s reaction and I couldn’t help but grin widely.

“You probably don’t know this,” Billy said, trying to recover, “but the Cullen family has an unpleasant reputation on the reservation.”

“Actually, I did know that,” Beau replied in a hard voice. This surprised Billy. His mind raced with questions. “But that reputation couldn’t be deserved, could it?” Beau continued. “Because the Cullens never set foot on the reservation, do they?”

 _He knows about the treaty?_ _How?_ Billy’s mind was frustrated. “That’s true,” he finally acceded. “You seem… well informed about the Cullens. More informed than I expected.”

Beau stared him down, unflinching. “Maybe even better informed than you are.”

 _But if he knows…_ “Maybe,” Billy allowed. “Is Charlie as well informed?”

This was a low blow, and it was the weakness in Beau’s stance.

“Charlie likes the Cullens a lot,” Beau skirted the question, too obviously.

“It’s not my business,” Billy said. “But it may be Charlie’s.”

Beau snapped back again, “Thought it would be my business, again, whether or not I think that it’s Charlie’s business, right?”

I rolled my eyes at the backwards way Beau phrased the question, but I was impressed by the assuredness with which he carried himself.

 _Damn it! Damn it! Damn it!_ The Black boy’s angry thoughts raged from direction of the driveway as the rain picked up.

“Yes,” Billy finally admitted from back inside the little kitchen, “I guess that’s your business, too.”

“And besides,” Beau continued, “didn’t you and Charlie have a sort of falling out the last time you said something to him about the Cullens?”

Ha! Beau was on to something now. Billy was uncomfortable now, he knew he was losing.

“And being that you _are_ such good friends with my dad,” Beau continued, going in for the kill, “I would hate to see you two have another falling out over something like that.”

Billy’s thoughts were angry and frustrated as he flipped through a dozen or so futile arguments before realizing that he had lost the upper hand.

“You’re right.” Billy finally sighed. Beau had won.

Beau sighed as well. “Thanks, Billy.”

“Just think about what you’re doing, Beau,” Billy urged and, despite my own anger and frustration, I couldn’t help but appreciate the genuine concern Billy had for Beau.

“I do, Billy. Every day.” Was Beau’s soft reply.

“What I meant to say was, don’t do what you’re doing.”

I could see them staring at each other in heavy silence through the small window.

Suddenly, the door banged loudly, and Beau jumped a good foot at the sound.

“There’s no picture anywhere in that car.” The Black boy’s whining voice carried through the house. I had completely forgotten he was even there. When he reached the kitchen, I could see through the window that he was drenched with rain.

“Hmm,” Billy grunted, spinning around to face his osn. “I guess I left it at home.”

 _You’ve got to be kidding me_. The boy rolled his eyes. “Great.”

“Well, Beau, tell Charlie”—Billy paused meaningfully—“that we stopped by, I mean.”

“Will do,” Beau muttered in response.

 _Wait, what?_ “Are we leaving already?” The boy’s voice was surprised and disappointed.

“Charlie’s gonna be out late,” Billy explained as he rolled himself out of the kitchen.

“Oh.” The boy was visibly disappointed. “Well,” he awkwardly held his hand out in a goodbye gesture, “I guess I’ll see you later, then, Beau.”

I decided it was probably safe to leave, I did have to prepare for the game and come back to Beau. Just as I started to move to leave, Beau reached out and grabbed the Black boy’s hand and pulled him into a hug.

I uprooted one of the bushes next to me.

“See you soon, Jake.” He said fondly.

 _Oh, man, this was worth standing in the rain…_ The boy’s elated thoughts only added to my utter shock and irritation.

“Take care, Beau,” Billy warned from the entrance hall.

I waited and watched as the Blacks got into their old car and drove away. I didn’t move until the car was completely out of even my own superior sight. I briefly warred with my desires to climb into Beau’s window and spend the next few hours with him, but I had to change into something more appropriate for playing baseball and, of course, I would need to arrive in some sort of vehicle if I was going to meet Charlie and take his son to watch a baseball game.

I forced myself away from the unending magnetic pull that was Beau and took off at a run back to my family’s house. As I ran, I thought of how best to encroach the subject of Billy Black with Carlisle. No doubt, he would tell me that I was worrying for nothing, that Billy would never do anything to risk breaking the treaty, but I still had my concerns.

When I arrived home, Alice met me in the entryway.

“Alice.” I nodded.

“I’m sorry, Edward, I didn’t see that Beau was going to have any visitors until after you had left,” She hung her head, “I was too preoccupied with the game.”

“It’s fine,” I assured her, “I’m just worried that Billy Black may become a problem.”

She closed her eyes and tilted her head back and forth slightly, after a moment she opened her eyes. “I don’t see him doing anything that would cause us any problems…” She trailed off, uncertain.

“What is it?”

“It’s…” She sighed. “It’s nothing. Humans are always less clear for me, but for some reason…” she trailed off again, then shook her head. “It’s nothing. Billy Black’s decisions are harder than most to see, but the worst he’ll do is talk to the other Quileute elders. He won’t say anything to Charlie.”

I watched her, confused, trying to see in her mind what was bothering her. Her visions seemed the same as usual, mostly. Perhaps less clear that some.

 _They’re far less clear than usual, even for watching a human._ Alice thought, guessing what I was doing. _Can’t you see that? It’s like there’s a haze over Billy Black that I can barely see through._

“It’s harder for you to see humans, and even harder when you don’t know them well, Alice.” I reassured her, wondering myself if that was truly the cause.

 _Maybe._ She shrugged. _I told Emmett to get the jeep ready for you, I saw you’d want to take it._

“Thanks.”

She smiled and dashed up the stairs to her’s and Jasper’s room.

“Hey!” Emmett’s voice boomed from the direction of the garage. “So how’d it go? What did I miss?” He asked as he strode into the room.

“It went fine, Em,” I rolled my eyes, “thank you for letting me use your jeep.”

“Nah, no problem,” He tossed the keys at me, harder than was necessary. My hand shot up and caught them, being careful not to bend the fragile metal.

“You’re going to ruin another set of keys,” I chided him.

He grinned. “Don’t put a scratch on my baby or I’ll throw a baseball straight at your head.”

“And what would that do, exactly?”

“Mess up your fancy hair.” He crowed, ruffling my hair with his hand.

I shoved him off and headed for my room to change.

_Hey, heads up, Roy still isn’t happy._

“I’d expect nothing less.” I sighed.

_He’s just worried, Edward. He’s not as awful as you think he is._

“I know, Emmett.” I glanced back at him, he looked unhappy. “What is it?”

“I wanted to meet the kid!” He frowned. “If he’s tough enough to handle the truth _and_ deal with all your crazy he’s got to be one hell of a guy.”

I laughed, despite myself. “He is.”

“Then I already like him.” Emmett grinned before dashing back to the garage.

I passed Jasper and Alice in the hallway on my way to my room, Jasper nodded once, trying to conceal a smirk.

_The excitement coming off of you…_

I gave him a playful shove as he walked passed me and he laughed.

“Esme and Carlisle are already on their way to the field, Emmett and Royal are leaving soon, as are we!” Alice sang. “I can’t wait to see Beau there! He’s going to be very impressed, I think.”

“If he can keep up.” Jasper chuckled from the bottom of the stairs.

“See you there!” Alice flashed a smile and hurried away.

 

The entire drive back to Forks was both a torture and thrill. Despite my excitement of seeing Beau again I could only go so fast in Emmett’s jeep. It was far too loud and conspicuous to be racing through the streets of Forks. I wondered if Beau was as nervous as I imagined him to be about me meeting his father. I felt confident that he was. I realized as I pulled into the driveway of Chief Swan’s house that even I was a touch nervous myself. How laughable. I should be afraid of nothing. Yet, I was nervous to meet my boyfriend’s father. How ridiculous. How… Human.

I jumped out of the jeep and headed for the door, my eagerness and desperate need to see Beau warring with my obligation to move at a human pace.

I froze at the porch. Should I knock? Ring the doorbell? Why didn’t I know? This wasn’t like me at all.

“Go get ready.” I heard Charlie say from inside the house.

I decided to ring the doorbell.

A scuffling of chairs followed by heavy footsteps.

“Dad, be nice.” Beau’s voice said with as much anxiousness as I expected.

“Oh, go on,” Charlie’s voice said.

A panicked rush of steps up the old staircase.

The door opened, and Charlie Swan stared me down. He had been standing at his full height when he opened the door with a stern expression which wavered only slightly when his eyes met mine.

“Come on in, Edward.”

“Thank you, Chief Swan,” I said in my most respectful voice.

“Go ahead and call me Charlie. Here, I’ll take your jacket.” He reached out to take it off my shoulders. I deftly removed it before he touched me. I didn’t want him to feel how cold I was, it would only make him feel ill at ease.

“Thanks, sir.” I smiled, handing it to him. He took it and seemed momentarily startled by how cold it felt. Damn, I should have put the heater on in the jeep. He regained his composure quickly, though, and hung it on the nearby coatrack.

Beau appeared at the top of the stairs just as Charlie rejoined me at the bottom of them. His beauty and perfection as he rushed down the stairs surprised me, yet again, though I could perfectly remember what he looked like in my mind. I beamed at him.

“Hi,” Beau breathed, sounding strangely out of breath when he reached the bottom.

“Have a seat there, Edward.” Charlie said, gesturing towards the small living room.

Beau visibly grimaced.

Aiming to be as respectful as possible, I took my place in the single chair, moving as humanly as I could manage. By choosing the chair, I forced Beau to sit next to his father on the sofa. He shot me a dirty look as he stumbled onto the couch, so I winked back at him, trying to appease his unhappiness.

“So,” Charlie began, “I hear you’re getting my boy to watch baseball.”

Beau made a strange face, like he found something about that amusing, but I wasn’t sure why beyond the obvious.

“Yes, sir,” I replied, “hopefully Beau doesn’t mind spending time with my family.”

“I’d say it was the baseball he’d mind more.” Charlie said, and we both laughed as Beau shot another dirty look, this time at his father.

“Should we be on our way?” Beau suggested, jumping up and walking to the hallway and grabbing his jacket. Charlie and I followed, with amused expressions.

“Not too late, Beau.”

“Don’t worry, Charlie, I’ll have him home early,” I promised.

“You take care of him, all right?”

“He’ll be safe with me, I promise sir.”

Charlie’s mind was still wary, but I could sense thoughts of trust there. There was no way he could doubt my sincerity on the matter of Beau’s safety; I would do anything and everything in my power to keep Beau safe, even at the cost of my own existence.

Beau hesitated for only a moment, then inched his way out the door in a strange, hilted manner. Charlie chuckled at him and I followed, smiling.

Beau stopped dead on the porch, his eyes wide and his mouth slightly ajar, as he laid eyes on Emmett’s jeep. The jeep was certainly impressive; it’s high tires, the metal guards over the headlights and taillights, the four large spotlights on the crash bar, the shiny red hardtop… Emmett was exceedingly proud of it.

Charlie let out a low whistle.

“Wear your seat belts,” he choked out.

I followed Beau around to the passenger side and opened the door for him. Beau studied the distance to the seat and prepared himself to throw himself into the jeep. I chuckled and lifted him in with one hand, making sure that Charlie couldn’t see.

Once he was in place, I slowly made my way around the front of the jeep to the driver’s side, keeping the slowest human pace I could under Charlie’s watchful eyes. As I took opened the door, Beau was fumbling with the various buckles and straps with an exasperated look on his face.

“What’s all this?” He asked.

“It’s an off-roading harness.”

“Oh, god.”

He kept trying to find the correct place for all the buckles, but the frustration was growing by the second on his face. I only smiled and reached over to help him. The rain surely would have obscured Charlie’s vision enough from the porch that he wouldn’t see the way my hand lingered at Beau’s ivory neck, brushed along my collarbone… His hands fell to his side as he took several deep breaths.

I reluctantly pulled myself away and turned the key of the jeep. It roared to life and we pulled away from the house.

“This is a… um… _big_ Jeep you have.” Beau glanced around the cab.

“It’s Emmett’s. I didn’t think you’d want to run the whole way.”

“Where do you keep this thing?”

“We remodeled one of the outbuildings into a garage.” I answered simply.

“Oh, of course.”

I glanced at him, grinning, catching the end of an eye-roll.

His face changed suddenly.

“Run the _whole_ way? As in, we’re still going to run part of the way?” His voice wavered with mounting nerves.

My grin didn’t falter. “ _You’re_ not going to run.”

“I don’t need to spend the evening suffering from a dizzy spell in front of your family.”

“Keep your eyes closed, you should be fine.”

He shook his head, sighed, then reached over and took my hand. “Hi. I missed you.”

I laughed at his simple, honest declaration and interlocked my fingers with his. “I missed you, too. Isn’t that strange?”

“Strange?”

“You’d think I’d have learned more patience over the last hundred years. And here I am, finding it difficult to pass an afternoon without you.”

“I’m okay with that.” He smiled, exceedingly pleased.

I leaned over to kiss the top of his head and his scent hit me hard. Warring desires of a thirst… and the hunger—that strange kind of hunger that had nothing to do with a need for sustenance. I couldn’t stop the long groan that escaped my lips. He looked up at me, puzzled.

“You smell so good in the rain,” I explained.

“In a good way, or a bad way?” His head tilted slightly to the side.

I let out a sigh. “Both, always both.”

We continued through the gloomy downpour until I found the somewhat hidden mountain path. He tried to make conversation now and then, but the rough terrain set him bouncing up and down in his seat, so he gave up. He looked so utterly adorable and I was rather excited to show off a little during the game that I couldn’t wipe the smile from my face.

We reached the end of the road where the trees formed walls of vibrant green on three sides of the jeep. The rain had slowed to a mere drizzle as the sky began to brighten through the clouds.

“Sorry, Beau, we’ll have to go on foot from here.”

“You know what? I’ll just wait here.” He sunk deeper into his seat.

“What happened to all your courage? You were extraordinary this morning.” I raised an eyebrow.

“I haven’t forgotten the last time yet.”

I was around to his side of the car before he had time to take another breath. I started unbuckling him from the seat.

“I’ll get those, you go on ahead,” he protested, but I was finished before he had the chance to get the first words out.

He didn’t move. He simply sat in the car, looking at me.

“You don’t trust me?” I asked, feigning hurt.

“Trust really isn’t really the issue. Me being a dizzy mess on the ground is the issue.”

I laughed, gently pulling him from the Jeep, and set his feet on the ground. He looked up at the light mist falling from the sky, a slightly surprised expression on his face. Watching him, an idea came into my head and I fought a grin.

“Do you remember what I was saying about mind over matter?” I asked.

“Yes…”

“Maybe if you concentrated on something else.” I offered.

“Like what?” He raised an eyebrow.

I smiled and placed my hands on either side of his head against the jeep, leaning slowly forward, he leaned back against the door. I leaned in closer, my face mere inches from his own.

“When we’re running—and yes, that part is nonnegotiable—I want you to concentrate on this.”

I mentally prepared myself for what I was about to do. I slowly moved in closer, turning my face to the side so that our cheeks met and my lips were at his ear. I let one of my hands slide down to his waist.

“Just remember us… like this…”

Being sure to use only my lips and not my teeth, I pulled softly on his earlobe, listening to his quickening heartbeat. Then I slowly moved my lips across his tensed jaw and down his ivory neck. His breathing caught, then stopped completely and he rested his delicate hands against my chest.

“You’re not breathing, Beau,” I murmured.

He sucked in a loud, deliberate breath.

I kissed under the edge of his still tense jaw, then along his cheekbone. “Still worried?”

“A bit.” His voice wavered.

I chuckled, putting both my hands on his waist. I placed a gentle kiss on one of his eyelids, then the next.

“Edward,” he breathed.

Then I couldn’t hold myself back any longer, my lips were on his. I was being too rough, too urgent, but I couldn’t slow myself down. His scent was all around me; intensified by the gentle mist that still clung to the air. His beauty intoxicated me, everything about him pulled me in. It was almost as if he were the vampire and I the prey. That deep, carnal hunger inside of me was desperate for this, desperate for him. His arms wrapped around my neck and it only fueled my desire; my lips pressed against his soft, yielding lips. I leaned deeper into him, pinning him against the Jeep. His heart was beating so frantically and erratically. Then he let out a soft whimper and that was nearly the end of me. I could not contain the moan that escaped my lips against his own. He sighed, blissfully, and his lips parted, deepening the kiss.

Then I panicked.

I was losing control—no, I was already out of control. I needed to stop. I staggered back from him, breaking his gentle grip on my neck.

“Dammit, Beau!” I gasped. “You’ll be the death of me, I swear you will.”

He took a few deep breaths as he gazed into my eyes. I could see the wildness and hunger of my eyes reflected in his. They matched mine.

“You’re indestructible,” he was practically panting.

“I might have believed that before I met _you._ ”

He laughed, but I was still serious. How close had I come to going too far? I was supposed to be stronger than this. I thought I was. How could he so easily break my willpower by simply existing?

He seemed to sense my mood because he reached his hand out and placed it gently on my cheek. The heat radiating from his palm was like air for a drowning man, I turned my head to kiss his palm, my eyes still on him. I smile still danced on his perfect, tempting lips and his eyes were still full of desire. I groaned against his hand; my reluctance to stop and yearning for more of him fighting with my self-control.

“Let’s get out of here before I do something really stupid,” the words came out in a growl.

I picked him up and swung him across my back as I had before, but it took me more effort than usual to be as gentle as I needed to be. The deep yearning inside of me was making me rough and dangerous. He immediately locked his legs around my waist and secured his arms around my neck in a hold that would have choked a human.

“Don’t forget to close your eyes,” I warned him.

He quickly tucked his face into my neck, his hot breath washing over me. It sent an electric feeling down my spine and I groaned again.

“Damn…” Another growl. I swear I could feel him smirking against my neck.

I started running before I lost any semblance of control. I was careful to avoid any branches that might hit him. He was tense the entire time, seeming to try and match his breathing to my own. I dashed through the thick forest, letting the cold air clear my head. I would need to be even _more_ careful in the future if he was going to continue to be so outrageously tempting. I was angry with myself for being so weak and it fueled my running. We made it to our destination in record time.

When I stopped, he didn’t move so I reached back to touch his hair.

“It’s over, Beau.”

He lifted his head, then stiffly released his arms from my body, sliding down to the ground, but somehow, he lost his footing and fell completely down on his backside.

“Oh!” He huffed as he hit the wet ground.

I stared in disbelief at his adorable clumsiness for a second, but the sight of his bewildered expression broke through my anger at myself and I erupted into uncontrollable laughter.

He slowly rose to his feet and brushed the mud and weeds off the back of his jeans, the bewildered expression replaced by righteous indignation. It only made me laugh harder. He rolled his eyes and began to stride off defiantly into the forest.

I caught his waist in my arms.

“Where are you going, Beau?”

“To watch the baseball game?” He raised an eyebrow.

“It’s the other way.”

He pivoted in my arms. “Okay.”

I caught him again and pulled him into my chest and I softly kissed his ear.

“Don’t be mad at me for laughing, I couldn’t help myself. You should have seen your face.” I couldn’t stop myself from chuckling again just remembering his face.

“What, you can be mad but I can’t?” He asked incredulously, raising his eyebrows. “I thought you were getting better about your temper.”

“I wasn’t mad at you.”

“I believe you said I would be the death of you.” He said, flatly.

“ _That_ was simply a statement of face.” I spun him around to face me. “I wasn’t mad at _you_.” The intensity of my emotions broke through my teasing.

“Then why did you get upset?” He tilted his head in the most adorably tempting way. “I know it’s not because it was a bad kiss. Because that was one of my better ones, I think.”

I laughed again, loudly. He had a remarkable way of understating the facts. “Oh, but that was the problem.” I gazed down at him, my eyes full of adoration. “I could never be mad at you, Beau.” I explained. “So kind, so patient, and brave…” I sighed. “I infuriate myself,” I said softly. “The way I can’t seem to keep from putting you in danger. The way you kissed me back at the Jeep was…” I closed my eyes, recalling every delicious moment, and took a deep breath, “beyond anything I had experienced thus far.”

“That’s saying something,” he smugly quipped, “we’ve been doing a lot of kissing the last couple of days.”

I smiled, but I couldn’t ignore the sadness mounting within me. “Yes,” I placed my hand on his face, rubbing his cheek with my thumb, “but what if I lose control? What if I hurt you? Sometimes I truly hate myself. I should be stronger, I should be able to—”

He stopped me short with a kiss, and I froze in surprise; still as a statue for a moment before my hands found their way to his waist and I allowed myself to relax and enjoy the moment. He pulled away all too soon for me, but I was still serenely content.

“You’re doing a fantastic job,” he smiled. “And I trust you. Completely. So give yourself a little credit.”

“I love you,” I said. “It’s a poor excuse for what I’m doing, but it’s still true.”

His heart thudding against his chest, and he looked at me strangely for a moment. His eyes full of joy. I didn’t understand why, but I liked when he looked at me that way.

“Now, where were we,” I continued, leaning forward to softly brush my lips against his. Any more than that and we would never make it to the game.

He sighed a long, content sigh. “You promised Chief Swan that you would have me home early, remember? We’d better get going.”

I could only nod.

“And, as long as you don’t lose _complete_ control,” He grinned, “I don’t mind if you lose a little more control next time we kiss.”

The thought of another kiss like the one at the jeep, or even something better than that—if such a thing was possible—was more than I could hope for from this existence. I sighed, reveling in the utter bliss I was feeling. “I think I can manage that.” I smiled.

“Let’s go.” He smiled back at me.

“Mmmm,” I sighed again, “Yes, sir.”

I smiled and released all of him from my arms but one hand. I laced my fingers through his and led him a few feet through the tall, wet ferns and draping moss, around the massive hemlock tree to the open field that rested in the Olympic peaks. He looked around, his eyes wide.

His eyes found Esme, Emmett, and Royal sitting on the bare outcropping of rocks on the edge of the field. Jasper and Alice were further out in the field tossing the ball back and forth while Carlisle marked the bases.

As we drew closer, I could hear their minds snap into focus as they caught Beau’s scent. Royal, Emmett, and Esme all rose from the rocks and Esme began walking towards us.

 _Hm. Count me out._ Royal’s thoughts were venomous, and entirely for my benefit. He stalked off toward the field without looking towards Beau again. Emmett watched him for a moment, then turned to approach us. I could feel Beau tense behind me.

“Was that you we heard, Edward?” Esme asked as she drew closer.

“It sounded like a bear choking,” Emmett clarified.

Beau smiled at Esme. “That was him.”

 _You loser._ Emmett was grinning.

“Beau was being unintentionally funny,” I explained, quickly evening the score.

 _Beau is here!_ Alice ran the distance between us in a second, stopping right at our feet. “It’s time,” she announced.

No sooner had she spoken then a deep rumble of the promised thunder shook the forest in the distance, and then crashed in the west towards the town.

“Eerie, isn’t it?” Emmett leaned into Beau with a familiar ease, winking.

“Let’s go!” Alice reached for Emmett’s hand and they ran toward the field. Beau watched them with wide eyes.

 _He seems great, Edward!_ Emmett was thinking as he ran. _Hopefully he can keep up._

 _He can stay here with me, Edward_. Esme was watching us, smiling.

“Are you ready for some ball?” I asked Beau, eagerly.

He smiled at me. “Go team!”

I laughed and ran my fingers through his hair before running to catch up with Alice and Emmett. I met them at the pitcher’s mound and Emmett clapped me hard on the back.

“Look at you, kid.” He smirked. I shoved him back, laughing.

“Shall we go watch?” Esme was asking Beau. She led him to her usual place for the games, matching her stride to his and keeping her distance.

“You don’t play with them?” He asked her.

“No, I prefer to referee. I like keeping them honest.”

“She thinks we cheat!” Emmett called over to Beau.

“I know you do!” Esme called back, laughing. “You should hear the arguments they get into! Actually, I hope you don’t, you would think they were raised by a pack of wolves.”

“You sound like my mom.” Beau laughed.

Esme laughed, too. She continued speaking softly to Beau, but Jasper approached and put a hand on my shoulder, distracting me.

“You’ll play left field, alright?” He smirked. _If you can focus, that is_.

“Don’t worry about me,” I grinned. “I’m completely focused.”

“Sure you are,” Emmett laughed, picking up the aluminum bat that was sitting at the home plate, “Completely focused on Beau.”

“Can we get on with this?” Royal called, annoyed.

“Now, now,” Carlisle chided, smiling as he took his place between the first and second bases. “Everyone play nice.”

Alice stood on the pitcher’s mound, smirking.

Jasper dashed several feet behind Emmett and readied himself to play catcher. Emmett swung the bat through the air a few times before falling into his stance.

“All right,” Esme called from her position on the edge of the field. “Batter up.”

Alice stood completely still for a moment, both hands at her waist, then her right hand flicked out. I could see in her mind that it would be an easy strike. Sure enough, Jasper caught the ball a fraction of a second before Emmett swung the bat.

“That was a strike, right?” Beau whispered to Esme.

“That’s right.” She smiled back at him. I smiled smugly at his quick eyes.

Jasper threw the ball back to Alice and she grinned briefly before throwing the ball again.

Emmett hit the ball this time with a thunderous crack and it flew into the deep forest surrounding the field. I dashed out into the forest, keeping an eye on the ball as I ran. A few miles out, I caught it and spun around back towards the field in one motion. I broke through the trees, holding it high above my head, grinning.

“Out!” Esme called out.

My eyes flickered over to Beau who was staring in disbelief at me.

“Emmett hits the hardest,” Esme was explaining to him, “but Edward runs the fastest.”

I couldn’t help but feel rather smug. I enjoyed showing off for Beau.

The inning continued at our usual fast pace. It was a particularly good game. I wondered how much Beau was able to keep up with. He seemed riveted, if not incredulous, as he watched us play. He only seemed worried once when Carlisle and Jasper collided at first base after Jasper had tried a ground ball. Beau had jumped up in concerned, but then watched in shock when Carlisle and Jasper stood back up, completely unharmed.

“Safe,” Esme called in her calm, gentle voice. Beau glanced to her, then back at Carlisle and Jasper, somewhat bewildered.

“He’s doing pretty good,” Emmett clapped me on the back, “you picked a good one.”

“I picked the best one.” I corrected him, smiling.

“Too bad your team is still losing.” He laughed, punching my shoulder.

It was true, his team was up by one point thanks to Royal tagging up one of Emmett’s long flies, but I caught the third out.  After I while, I couldn’t stay away from Beau any longer and sprinted to his side.

“What do you think?” I asked him.

“One thing’s for sure, I’ll never be able to sit through dull old Major League Baseball again.”

“I’m sure you’re heartbroken.” I laughed.

“It’s a little funny.”

“What is?” I asked, confused.

“Vampire baseball. It’s just so funny to think about it.”

I flashed a smile at him and his breath caught.

“I’m up,” I said, heading for the plate and eager to show off some more.

“Stop flirting,” Royal muttered, disgusted, from the outfield.

I ignored him. Nothing could bring down my mood today. Everything was perfect. My family was here, Beau was here. I had everything in the world I needed.

The score changed constantly as the game continued, but I didn’t care. I was too happy to care about who won the game, because I was the true winner here. How had I ever thought things wouldn’t work out? Esme had said before that it would all work out and she was right.

Carlisle was up to bat, and I crouched several feet behind him to catch. My mind was barely on the game, all I could think about was Beau.

Then Alice gasped.

My head snapped up to look at her, her eyes met mine and I saw what she had seen.

Three strangers, running through the woods towards us. All dissimilar in appearance save for their ragged, worn clothing and their bright red eyes.

I raced to Beau’s side, my mind racing. I felt even colder than usual as a sense of dread washed over me. Alice was close behind me.

“Alice?” Esme’s voice was tense.

“I didn’t see—I couldn’t tell,” she whispered.

The others all closed in around us, instinctively knowing they needed to protect Beau.

“What is it, Alice?” Carlisle asked, his voice calm and authoritative.

“Others.” I whispered, too quiet for Beau to hear.

“They were traveling much quicker than I thought. I can see I had the perspective wrong before,” she murmured.

My eyes shot to her, she averted her gaze, guiltily.

_I’m sorry, Edward. I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want you to worry. I was so sure…_

Jasper saw the anger in my eyes and leaned over Alice, his posture protective. “What changed?” he asked, staring me down.

“They heard us playing, and it changed their path,” she said. _Edward, I didn’t think… I didn’t know…_

Beau was in everyone’s mind as they all looked at him for brief moment, then looked away, eyes on the trees.

“How soon?” Carlisle asked, turning to me.

I concentrated on the forest, scanning for unfamiliar voices. Then I found them.

“Less than five minutes. They’re running—they want to play.” I scowled.

“Can you make it?” Carlisle asked, his eyes flicking toward Beau again. _He shouldn’t be here, Edward._

“No, not carrying—” I cut short, my mind racing and beyond frustrated. “Besides, the last thing we need is for them to catch the scent and start hunting.”

“How many?” Emmett asked Alice.

“Three,” she answered tersely.

“Three!” he scoffed. “Let them come.” He flexed his arms, unworried.

Everyone’s eyes were on Carlisle, anxious for his decision. He deliberated for only a moment.

“Let’s just continue the game,” he finally decided, keeping his voice cool and level. Only I could hear the worry in his thoughts. “Alice said they were curious.”

“Edward,” Esme whispered to me, so quick and quiet that Beau would be unable to hear. “Are they… Do they need to hunt?”

I shook my head slightly. The others weren’t hunting now, they had fed recently. Her face looked immediately relieved, but I didn’t share her feelings on the matter. I kept my mind split between the forest, listening to the others’ minds, and scanning the cacophony of visions passing through Alice’s mind. Nothing was set in stone. She couldn’t see what would happen.

“You catch, Esme,” I said. “I’ll call it now.” I planted myself in front of Beau.

The others returned to the field, sweeping the dark forest with wary eyes. Alice and Esme oriented themselves around Beau, tense and ready to defend. Royal didn’t move at first. He glared at Beau for a long moment before moving back to the field.

 _I hope your happy_. He thought bitterly.

“The others are coming now.” Beau stated. His voice was small and quiet.

“Yes, stay very still, keep quiet, and don’t move from my side, please.” I tried to hide the stress in my voice so as not to worry him, but in the back of my mind I knew Beau was too sharp to miss it. From the corner of my eye, I saw him pull the collar of his raincoat up around his neck.

“That won’t help,” Royal muttered back at us. “I could smell him across the field.”

“I know.” Frustration at Royal’s attitude tinged my words.

Carlisle stood at the plate, and the others joined the game with far less enthusiasm than before. Everyone was on edge, waiting.

“What did Esme ask you?” Beau whispered.

Of course he noticed. “Whether they were thirsty,” I unwillingly muttered.

The seconds seemed to tick by at a crawl; no one dared to hit the ball farther than a few yards for fear of being too far away when the others arrived. Emmett, Royal, and Jasper hovered in the infield, ready to close in at a moment’s notice. I tried to concentrate on the other’s minds, gauging the distance between them and us, but I was occasionally distracted by Beau’s face in Royal’s mind. The anger and frustration that filled Royal’s mind as he watched Beau only made me more anxious.

“I’m sorry, Beau,” I muttered. “It was stupid and irresponsible of me to expose you like this. I’m so sorry.”

Then I heard them. My breath stopped, and my eyes snapped to the far right of the field. I took half a step, angling myself between Beau and what was coming.

Carlisle, Emmett, and the others turned in the same direction, hearing the sounds of the other’s steps against the damp forest floor.

Beau held his breath behind me.

My hubris had been too great, and now I would have to pay for that folly and I knew, in that tense moment, it was going to change everything.


	19. The Hunt

They emerged one by one from the edge of the forest, approximately a dozen meters apart from each other. The first male into the clearing immediately fell back, allowing the second male to take the front. The second male appeared to be the leader. The third man appeared last, and he was the most feral of the group with wild red hair and ferocious eyes.

They closed ranks before cautiously moving towards us, I listened carefully to their thoughts as they approached. They seemed optimistically cautious, if not surprised, to find another group of their kind so close to town.

I cautiously watched Beau out of the corner of my eyes, trying not to draw much attention to him. He was watching the approaching group with wide, wary eyes, taking in their disheveled appearance.

 _Keep an eye on Beau but try not to draw any more attention than you need to, Edward._ Carlisle cautioned me as he strode forward, flanked by Emmett and Jasper.

 _Dressed so nicely…_ The dark-haired leader noted as Carlisle approached. _A taste for the finer things._

The three strangers straightened their postures to try and match Carlisle’s, but the more animalistic edge of their body language was still apparent.

The leader was obviously the most civilized of the three of them. His pale flesh had an almost olive-tone and his short hair was glossy black. He had a medium, muscled build but I guessed he would still be no match for Emmett should it come to that. He smiled easily, exposing his gleaming white teeth.

 _Bet they’re stuck up,_ the red-headed man was thinking. He was wilder, his eyes darting restlessly between everyone in the clearing. His mind was fast and ferocious. I didn’t like spending time in his thoughts.

The last male bothered me the most, though. He was the most unobtrusive, standing slightly behind the others. He was slighter than the leader, with light brown hair and a plain face. Largely nondescript. His eyes, though, seemed hyper-vigilant. Something in his calm, quiet mind set me more on edge than his feline-like red-haired companion.

All three of them bore deep burgundy-red eyes. The sight of which made even me slightly uncomfortable after all this time living the life we had.

The dark-haired leader, still smiling, stepped toward Carlisle.

“We thought we heard a game,” his voice was relaxed with the slightest trace of a long-forgotten French accent. “I’m Laurent, these are Victor and James.” He gestured to the other two males.

“I’m Carlisle. This is my family, Emmett and Jasper, Royal, Esme, and Alice, Edward and Beau.” He was careful to gesture to each of us broadly, in groups, so as not to draw attention to any one individual. I felt Beau start ever so slightly when he heard his name. I hoped the others didn’t notice.

“Do you have room for a few more players?” Laurent asked sociably.

Carlisle, ever the master at setting a relaxed mood, matched his friendly tone. “Actually, we were just finishing up. But we’d certainly be interested another time. Are you planning to stay in the area for long?”

“We’re headed north, in fact, but we were curious to see who was in the neighborhood. We haven’t run into any company in a long time.”

“No, this region is usually empty except for us and the occasional visitor, like yourselves.”

Jasper was subtly easing the tension, feeling the individual moods of the strangers and adjusting accordingly.

 _I don’t like the quiet one in the back, Edward,_ he thought, _that one is… ruthless._

“Where’s your hunting range?” Laurent casually inquired.

Carlisle ignored the assumption behind the inquiry. “The Olympic Range, here, up and down the Coast Ranges on occasion. We maintain a permanent residence nearby. There’s another permanent settlement like ours up near Denali.”

 _They live here?_ Laurent rocked back on his heels slightly.

“Permanent? How do you manage that?” Laurent was genuinely curious, if not shocked.

“Why don’t you come back to our home with us and we can talk comfortably?” Carlisle invited. “It’s a rather long story.”

 _Home? They can’t be serious…_ The red-head, Victor exchanged a surprised look with James, the quiet one. Laurent managed to keep his expression more even.

“That sounds very interesting, and welcome.” He smiled. “We’ve been on the hunt all the way down from Ontario, and we haven’t had the chance to clean up in a while.” His eyes moved appreciatively over Carlie’s far more refined appearance.

“Please don’t take offense, but we’d appreciate it if you’d refrain from hunting in this immediate area. We have to stay inconspicuous, you understand.” Carlisle explained.

“Of course.” Laurent nodded. “We certainly won’t encroach on your territory. We just ate outside of Seattle, anyway,” he laughed. I could sense Beau shiver behind me.

“We’ll show you the way if you’d like to run with us—Emmett and Alice, you can go with Edward and Beau to get the Jeep,” he casually added.

While Carlisle was still speaking, a light breeze blew through the open field, ruffling Beau’s hair. I involuntarily stiffened as his scent whipped past me towards the strangers. The slighter male, James, was the first to notice, his head whipped around, and he locked eyes on Beau, his nostrils flaring.

 _What a scent…_ His mind raced with a sudden surge of hunger and intrigue.

Jasper’s attempts at controlling the atmosphere completely failed and a swift rigidity fell over all of us as James lurched one step forward into a predatory crouch. I bared my teeth, crouching in defense, a feral snarl ripping from my throat. No trace of human left in my posture, not when Beau was in such immediate danger.

“What’s this?” Laurent exclaimed, surprised. _What’s going on?_

James and I were locked in our aggressive poses. He watched me curiously.

 _What are you going to do if I just…_ James feinted slightly to the side, and I shifted in response. _How interesting._ James thought. _Protective of your little pet, are you?_

“He’s with us.” Carlisle’s firm voice was directed toward James. Laurent caught Beau’s scent then, less powerfully than James, but awareness now dawned on his face.

“You brought a snack?” he asked, his expression incredulous as he took an involuntary step forward.

I snarled even more viciously, harshly, my lip curling high above my bared teeth. Laurent stepped back again.

“I said he’s with us,” Carlisle corrected in a hard voice.

“But he’s _human_ ,” Laurent protested in surprise.

“Yes.”

Emmett moved closer to Carlisle’s side, his eyes on James.

 _Hmm, no need for a fight_. James mused, straightening out of his crouch. But his eyes stayed locked on Beau, his nostrils still wide as he inhaled Beau’s scent. _What a delicious little treat you are_. _Mmm… Intoxicating._

I somehow felt even colder as a sense of dread washed over me. The more I listened to James’s mind, the more I understood about him. The fascination with which he observed myself and Beau, the way he was learning and examining Beau’s scent… He was a tracker.

 _You reckless, fool…_ Laurent’s thoughts were vicious toward James, heavy with embarrassment.  “It appears we have a lot to learn about each other.” Laurent’s voice broke through the tense silence, his tone soothing. He didn’t want a fight.

“Indeed.” Carlisle’s voice was still cool.

“But we’d like to accept your invitation.” Laurent’s eyes flicked toward Beau and back to Carlisle. “And, of course, we will not harm the human boy. We won’t hunt in your range, as I said.”

 _You always complicate things, don’t you?_ James glanced in disbelief and aggravation at Laurent, then exchanged another brief look with Victor, who’s eyes still flickered from face to face.

Victor nodded, ever so slightly. _Game on_.

The subtlest smirk danced on the corners of James’s lips. _Perfect._

 _Edward, I’m going to invite them to the house. You get Beau out of here, understand?_ Carlisle was measuring Laurent’s expression for a moment before he spoke. “We’ll show you the way. Jasper, Royal, Esme?” he called. They gathered together, blocking Beau from view as they converged together. Alice was instantly by Beau’s side, and Emmett reluctantly fell back, his eyes locked on James as he moved back towards us.

 _I’ll see you soon, little human._ James was thinking. _You can thank your boyfriend for that_.

 _Edward!_ Alice caught my attention as a vision came to her. James had decided on his course. The hunt was on.

“Let’s go, Beau.” I said in a low voice, not bothering to hide my emotions.

Beau didn’t move. He was so firmly rooted in place that I had to grip his elbow and give him a sharp pull in order to make him move. Alice and Emmett stayed close behind us, hiding him from view as we hurried toward the woods. Beau stumbled along at my side as we moved at an agonizingly human pace. I didn’t dare risk moving any faster, it might only incite James to follow.

Once we were in the trees, I swung Beau over my back without breaking my stride. He instantly gripped onto me and tucked his head into my neck as we started running. Alice and Emmett stayed right behind me, keeping wary eyes on the trees.

How could I have been so foolish? If I hadn’t reacted the way I did, James might have let it go. Acting the way I did had only excited him, made it all one big game. This was my fault. I had put Beau in even more danger than he had ever been before.

We reached the Jeep and I only barely slowed as I swept Beau into the backseat.

“Strap him in,” I snapped at Emmett, who slid in beside Beau.

Alice was already in the front seat, her mind racing with visions, watching the tracker’s decision. I started the engine and it roared to life as we swerved backward, spinning around to face the winding road.

 _He’s decided on his plan, Edward_. Alice cautioned, and I watched the vision play through her head. James’s plan of pursuit. There was no stopping him now.

“Damn it! Damn him to hell! Bastard… the damn bastard…” I growled to myself as I drove.

I was too focused on working out a counter-plan to drive carefully. The trip was violent as I pushed the Jeeps limits through the rough terrain. Emmett glared out the side window, watching for James. Alice was watching all the various decisions carefully. I hit something in the road that caused the jeep to jolt violently and Beau let out a weak cry of fright. My eyes shot to the rearview mirror, to check on him. Emmett was tentatively placing a hand on Beau’s shoulder to comfort him.

As soon as we hit the main road, I gunned it south, away from Forks.

“Where are we going?” Beau asked, confused.

I didn’t answer, I was staring at the road. Furious at myself, furious at James. Even angry with Alice for not warning me about the strangers in the first place.

“Dammit, Edward! Where are you taking me?”

The anger in his voice burned into me. “We have to get you away from here—far away—now.” I didn’t dare look back at him, I couldn’t bear to see the expression on his face. No doubt he would be upset with me.

“Turn around! You have to take me home!” He shouted back. I let myself glance back at him in the rearview mirror. His face was livid as he struggled with the off-road harness, tearing at the straps.

“Emmett,” I said.

Emmett nodded slightly and secured Beau’s thrashing hands in his own.

“No! Edward! No, you can’t do this.” Beau protested.

“I have to, Beau, now please be quiet.”

“Do not tell me to be quiet!” Beau snapped back at me. The ice in his voice was like knives through me, my grip on the steering wheel tightened.

 _Damn, this kid has got some fire in him._ Emmett mused, curiously.

“You have to take me back home—” Beau continued, “Charlie will call the FBI! They’ll be all over your family—Carlisle and Esme! They’ll have to leave, hide forever!”

“Calm down, Beau.” I said, my voice cold. “We’ve been there before.”

“You’re being ridiculous. You don’t need to do this yourselves—we can figure something out!” He argued, struggling violently against Emmett’s steel grip.

Alice spoke then, “Edward, pull over.”

I flashed her a hard look. She had no right to tell me what to do, not today. I sped up.

“Edward, let’s just talk this through.”

“You don’t understand,” I roared, my frustration breaking through. “He’s a tracker, Alice, did you _see_ that? He’s a tracker!”

 _Oh, damn_ … Emmett stiffened in the back seat as he contemplated what that meant for us moving forward.

Alice considered my words for a brief moment, then continued. “Pull over, Edward.” She said, using the authoritative tone she reserved almost exclusively for me when she was angry with me.

I ignored her and pushed the Jeep even faster.

“Do it, Edward.”

“Listen to me, Alice. I saw his mind. Tracking is his passion, his obsession—and he wants him, Alice— _him_ , specifically. He begins the hunt tonight.”

I wasn’t telling her anything she didn’t know. She saw the Tracker’s decisions.

“He doesn’t know where—”

I cut her off. “How long do you think it will take him to cross his scent in town? His plan was already set before the words were out of Laurent’s mouth.”

Beau gasped from the backseat. “Charlie! You can’t leave him there! You can’t leave him!” He was still trying to pull his hands free of Emmett’s.

“He’s right,” Alice said. She followed the course of my decision to take Beau away from Forks, and sure enough, the path we were on led the Tracker straight to Beau’s house. The vision shifted to Charlie’s body, lifeless on the living room couch in front of the television, as the Tracker continued on his unstoppable path toward Beau.

I slowed slightly as I argued with myself. I could keep Beau safe, but at the cost of his father. Would he thank me for that? Or would Beau forever resent me for it?

“Let’s just look at our options for a minute,” Alice coaxed.

I slowed again, contemplating the possibilities.

Alice replayed the vision of Charlie, dead and drained of blood through her head.

 _Beau won’t thank you for that, Edward. He’d never forgive you_. She cautioned me.

She wasn’t wrong. I slammed my foot down on the brakes and the Jeep screeched to a halt on the shoulder of the highway.

“There are no options,” I hissed at Alice.

“I’m not leaving Charlie!” Beau yelled.

I stiffened at the edge to his voice, Alice was right. Beau would never forgive me if anything happened to his father.

“We have to take him back,” Emmett spoke.

“No.” I couldn’t march Beau to his death.

“He’s no match for us, Edward. He won’t be able to touch Beau.” Emmett countered.

“He’ll wait.”

Emmett smiled. “I can wait, too.”

“You didn’t see—you don’t understand. Once he commits to a hunt, he’s unshakeable. We’d have to kill him.”

Emmett was unphased. “That’s an option.”

“And the redhead. He’s with him. If it turns into a fight, the leader will go with them, too.”

“There’s enough of us.” Emmett argued.

“There’s another option,” Alice said quietly. She recalled the vision of Beau, pale and red-eyed for a fleeting moment.

I turned on her, my fury twisting my voice into a snarl. “There—is—no—other—option!”

I felt Emmett and Beau’s eyes on me, but I was locked on Alice. I would not allow that vision to come to pass. Never. We stared at each other for a long minute.

“Does anyone want to hear my plan?” Beau said, breaking the tense silence.

“No,” I growled dismissively. Alice glared at me, finally provoked by my attitude.

“Listen,” Beau began. “You take me back.”

“No,” I interrupted.

I felt Beau’s eyes bore into me for a moment.

“Edward Cullen, listen to me.” He snapped, his voice thick with frustration. My eyes widened in surprise and I quickly glanced at Beau for a moment. I immediately regretted it. His silver eyes were ice and daggers, tearing into me with a fury I had never seen in him before.

“Shut up, get your temper under control and stop yelling.” He scolded me, his voice painfully angered. “You _will_ take me back. I’ll tell my dad I want to go home to Phoenix. I pack my bags. We wait till this tracker is watching, and _then_ we run. He’ll follow us and leave Charlie alone. Charlie won’t call the FBI on your family. Then you can take me any damned place you want. Got it?”

We all stared at him, stunned. His eyes were locked on me. Ice and rage. I felt a twinge of something deep in my core, something I couldn’t quite place for a moment, then I realized. It was fear. I actually, on some level, felt… _afraid_ of Beau.

“It’s not a bad idea, really.” Emmett broke the silence, sounding surprised and impressed.

“It might work—” Alice was trying to see if it would work, but my mind was stubbornly set on my own plan, blocking her visions of any alternative. “and we simply can’t leave his father unprotected. You know that.” She continued.

They all looked at me.

“It’s too dangerous—I don’t want him within a hundred miles of Beau.”

Emmett’s confidence was palpable. “Edward, he’s not getting through us.”

Alice combed through visions of the tracker’s decisions. “I don’t see him attacking. He’ll try and wait for us to leave him alone.”

“It won’t take long for him to realize that’s not going to happen.”

“I _demand_ that you take me home.” Beau growled.

I pressed my fingers to my temples and squeezed my eyes shut. Trying to think, but failing. It was too much. I couldn’t risk Beau. I couldn’t do it.

“ _Edward_ ,” Beau’s voice was calmer, but still hard, “please.”

Alice’s visions shifted as my resolve wavered. We were on a new path.

I didn’t look up as I spoke. “You’re leaving tonight, whether the tracker sees or not. You tell Charlie that you can’t stand another minute in Forks. Tell him whatever story works. Pack the first things your hands touch, and then get in your truck. I don’t care what he says to you. You have fifteen minutes. Do you hear me? Fifteen minutes from the time you cross the doorstep.”

“I will take however long I need to convince Charlie not to follow me,” Beau countered, resolutely. “Do _you_ hear _me_?”

I knew there was no arguing with him. The Jeep rumbled to life as I hit the gas and spun us around, tires squealing as I sped back towards Forks.

“Emmett?” Beau said. I glanced in the rearview mirror and saw him looking pointedly at his hands, still locked in Emmett’s.

“Oh, sorry.” Emmett released Beau’s hands, then leaned in closer to him, “That was badass of you just now.” He said quietly, grinning.

“Thanks,” Beau muttered.

I made a mental note to tell Emmett not to encourage this sort of life-threatening behavior from Beau in the future.

The minutes passed in silence as I solidified our new plan. Alice watched my decisions, determining what would work and what wouldn’t, helping me decide what to do. Once we had combed through all the possibilities I spoke again.

“This is how it’s going to happen. When we get to the house, if the tracker is not there, I will walk him to the door. Then he has fifteen minutes.” I glared at Beau in the rearview mirror, he stubbornly glared back. “Emmett, you take the outside of the house. Alice, you get the truck. I’ll be inside as long as he is. After he’s out, you two can take the jeep home and tell Carlisle.”

“No way,” Emmet broke in. “I’m with you.”

“Think it through, Emmett.” I don’t know how long I’ll be gone.”

“Until we know how far this is going to go, I’m with you.”

I sighed. “If the tracker _is_ there,” I continued, grimly pondering that possibility, “we keep driving.”

“We’re going to make it there before him,” Alice said confidently.

She was right, I could see it in her mind.

“What are we going to do with the Jeep?” she asked.

I saw where her train of thought was going. A new course was being decided, not by myself or by her, but by Beau.

“You’re driving it home.” I said, my voice hard.

“No, I’m not,” she said calmly.

Another string of profanities poured out of my mouth, I hoped Beau couldn’t understand them.

“We can’t all fit in my truck,” Beau pointed out.

I didn’t acknowledge him. Hoping that ignoring him would stop him from seeing this ludicrous new idea to completion.

“I think you should let me go alone,” Beau said, far too calmly.

Was he insane?

“Beau, please just do this my way, just this once,” I said between clenched teeth.

“You’re not making rational decisions. Your temper is out of control and you’re thinking emotionally, not logically,” he protested. “Charlie’s not an imbecile. If you’re not in town tomorrow, he’s going to get suspicious.”

“That’s irrelevant. We’ll make sure he’s safe, and that’s all that matters.”

“Then what about this tracker? He saw the way you acted tonight. He’s going to think you’re with me, wherever you are.”

Emmett looked at Beau, surprised and impressed again. “Edward, listen to him,” he urged. “I think he’s right.”

“Yes, he is.” Alice agreed.

“I can’t do that.” My voice was ice.

“Emmett should stay, too,” Beau continued. “He definitely got an eyeful of Emmett.”

“What?” Emmett turned on Beau, thankfully. I didn’t need anyone encouraging these insane thoughts.

“You’ll get a better crack at him if you stay,” Alice agreed with Beau, encouraging Emmett.

I stared at her incredulously for betraying me like that. “You think I should let Beau go alone?”

“Of course not,” Alice said. “Jasper and I will take him.”

“I can’t do that,” I repeated, vainly. I could see the logic in the plan, and as Alice’s visions become more solidified, I could see they were right.

Beau shifted slightly in his seat, when he spoke, I could tell he was trying to be persuasive with me, but there was still an edge to his voice. “Hang out here for a week—” I made a face, which he must have seen in the rearview mirror because he sighed “—a few days. Let Charlie see you haven’t kidnapped me and lead this James on a fake trail so he’s completely off mine. Then come and meet me. Take a roundabout route, of course, and then Jasper and Alice can go home.”

It was a sound plan, I couldn’t deny that.

“Meet you where?”

“Phoenix.” He said, as if it were obvious.

“No. He’ll hear that’s where you’re going,” I said impatiently.

“And you’ll make it look like that’s a ruse” he snapped, “He’ll know that we’re expecting him to be listening. He’ll never believe I’m actually going where I say I’m going.”

“He’s diabolical,” Emmett chuckled.

“And if that doesn’t work?” I asked, ignoring Emmett.

“There are several million people in Phoenix,” he shrugged.

“It’s not that hard to find a phone book.”

“Obviously I’m not going home.” He said, annoyed.

“Oh?” I inquired, my voice edgy. His matter of fact attitude was only setting me off.

“I’m old enough to get my own place.”

“Edward, we’ll be with him,” Alice reminded me.

“What are _you_ going to do in _Phoenix_?” I asked her scathingly.

“Stay indoors.”

“I kind of like it.” Emmett was thinking about his chances of taking a crack at the tracker and enjoying it immensely.

“Shut up, Emmett.”

“Look, if we try to take him down while Beau’s still around, there’s a much better chance that someone will get hurt—Beau’ll get hurt, or you will, trying to protect him. Now, if we get the tracker alone…” Emmett trailed off with a slow smile.

I drove slowly and inconspicuously through town. Beau was silent, he seemed tense and contemplative. I could only guess what he was thinking. I wondered if he was angry with me still, surely he was. I wondered if, even if all of our plans worked, would he resent me at the end of this? And what if we failed? What would I do with myself? It was too grim a future to contemplate.

“Beau.” I said, my voice soft. Alice and Emmett looked out their windows. “If anything happens to you—anything at all—I’ll never forgive myself. I’ll never be able to forget that it was _my_ fault you…” I couldn’t say the words, I took a deep breath. “Do you understand?”

“Yes,” he said softly.

I turned to Alice.

“Can Jasper handle this?”

“Give him some credit, Edward. He’s been doing very, very well, all things considered.”

“Can _you_ handle this?” I asked.

She pulled back her lips and let out a guttural snarl. _You’re lucky Beau is here, Edward. You really can be so stupid sometimes._

I couldn’t help but smile a little. “But keep your opinions to yourself.” I muttered.


	20. Goodbyes

All the lights were on at Beau’s house. Charlie was waiting for him. I could sense his muffled thoughts from the living room; sleepy and somewhat expectant.

I pulled up slowly, staying far back from Beau’s truck. I was alert and tense, listening for the sounds of the tracker in the surrounding wood both physical and mental. Alice was dividing her attention between reality and her visions, while Emmett looked through every shadow and caught every scent, searching for anything out of place. I cut the engine and Beau sat, motionless, in the silence.

“He’s not here,” I said, tension strangling the words. “Let’s go.”

Emmett reached over to help Beau out of the harness. “Don’t worry, Beau,” he said in a low but cheerful voice, “we’ll take care of things here quickly.”

Beau said nothing, but his face seemed sad with his eyes locked on Emmett. Emmett smiled, placing his hand on Beau’s shoulder.

“Alice, Emmett.” I commanded. They vanished into the darkness without a word. I opened Beau’s door and took his hand, then pulled him into my arms. I held him close as I walked him toward the door, my eyes watching everywhere.

“Fifteen minutes,” I warned under my breath.

“I can do this.” He sniffed back the tears that were welling in his anxious eyes.

He stopped at the porch and took my face in his burning hands. His eyes locked fiercely onto mine.

“I love you,” his voice was low and intense. “I will always love you, no matter what happens now.”

“Nothing is going to happen to you, Beau,” My voice as fierce and intense as his.

“Just follow the plan, okay? Keep Charlie safe for me. He’s not going to like me very much after this, and I want to have the chance to apologize later.”

I couldn’t bear to let him leave my arms. “Beau,” my voice was urgent, but I hesitated for a moment, not knowing what to say to explain my feelings. I pulled him into a tight, protective embrace. “I’m so sorry for my behavior in the Jeep. Please forgive me.” My pain resonated in my voice, “I’m wasting time but I’ve never heard you so angry and I know I was wrong to begave the way I did. Please, forgive me for at least that.” I kissed his cheek, softly. “Now, please, hurry.”

“One more thing,” he whispered passionately. “Don’t listen to another word I say tonight!” He stretched up on his toes and kissed me with such force that even I barely had time to react. Without another word, he turned and kicked the door open.

“Go away, Edward! Get the hell away from me!” He yelled, running inside and slamming the door shut in my face.

“Beau?” I could hear Charlie call from the direction of the living room.

“Leave me alone!” Beau yelled back, his voice dripping with anger. Then the sound of his feet pounding up the old staircase towards his room, followed by the sound of a slamming door.

For a moment I was stunned, unable to move. I deserved that, of course, but his sudden mercurial shift in moods. Then I began to realize what Beau was doing. In better circumstances, I would have marveled at his cunning. I flew from the porch and up the side of the house to Beau’s window.

Charlie was pounding at the door.

“Beau, are you okay? What’s going on?” His voice, like his mind, was wrought with concern and fear.

“I’m going _home_ ,” Beau shouted, his voice breaking on the last word.

“Did he hurt you?” Charlie’s tone shifted with his mind toward anger.

I hurried to Beau’s dresser, I grabbed the keys to his truck and put them in my pocket then began pulling clothes out in armfuls.

“No!” Beau yelled back. He turned to the dresser, and immediately opened his arms to catch the clothing I was pulling out.

“Did he break up with you?” Charlie was perplexed.

“No, he didn’t!” Beau yelled, slightly breathless as he shoved everything into a duffel bag sitting on his bed. I pulled more clothing out, not paying attention to what I grabbed, and threw it to Beau who shoved it into the nearly full duffel.

“What happened, Beau?” Charlie shouted through the door, pounding again.

“ _I_ broke up with _him_!” Beau shouted back, ineffectually jerking on the bag’s zipper. The words stung, even though they were false. I gently pushed his shaking hands away from the bag and zipped it up smoothly. Then I put the strap carefully over his arm.

“I’ll be in the truck—go!” I whispered and pushed him toward the door. I rushed out the window, placed the keys in the ignition of the truck and hid behind it, out of Charlie’s eyesight.

“What happened?” I heard Charlie yelling. “I thought you liked him.”

Charlie’s mind was a mess of confused thoughts, frustration, and concern for his son. It sounded like they were near the door. I felt a growing tension as the silence dragged on, though it was only a few seconds. When the silence broke, I could hear the pain and anger in Beau’s voice so acutely that it bore into me.

“I _do_ like him—that’s the problem.” Beau snapped. “I can’t do this anymore. I can’t put down anymore roots in this damn place! This stupid, awful small town full of small minded idiots! I don’t want to end up trapped here like Mom! I’m not going to make the same dumb mistakes she did. This town is never _really_ going to be okay with someone like me. So what if I throw my life away on some stupid boy here? I’ll still be _here_. I’ll still be in Forks and I’ll always be miserable. I hate it—I can’t stay here another damn minute!”

Charlie’s mind whirled with shock and devastation as Beau’s footsteps came closer to the door.

“Beau, you can’t leave now. It’s nighttime,” Charlie whispered.

“I’ll sleep in the truck if I get tired.”

“Just wait another week,” Charlie’s voice was pleading now, shocked and hurt. “Your mom will be back then.”

“What?” Beau’s voice was bewildered. He was confused about this and it derailed his intentions.

Charlie pounced on Beau’s momentary hesitation. “She called while you were out. Things aren’t going so well in Florida, if Phil doesn’t get signed by the end of the week, they’re going back to Arizona. The assistant coach of the Sidewinders said they might have a spot for another shortstop.”

Seconds of silence again.

“I have a key,” Beau muttered, and the doorknob turned.

“Please, Beau,” Charlie begged. I didn’t have to interpret his veiled thoughts to viscerally feel the pain and hurt that permeated his voice. “I can do better, I can spend more time at the house—we can do more stuff together.” His voice edged on desperation, “Please, I just got you back.”

“Just let me go, Charlie.” Beau’s voice was cold and angry. “It didn’t work out, okay? I absolutely _hate_ Forks.”

These words, for some reason unknown to me, worked more effectively against Charlie than anything else. His mind plummeted into pain and despair. Beau threw the door open and ran out of the house toward the truck. He threw his bag into the bed and wrenched the door open.

“I’ll call you tomorrow!” He yelled, turning the key and gunning the engine, peeling out into the night. I ran along the side of the truck and then smoothly slid through the passenger door into the cab of the truck. Beau didn’t seem to even notice my presence. His hands were gripped tightly on the wheel and his eyes, brimming with tears, were locked on the road in front of him.

I reached for his hand.

“Pull over,” I said once the house, and his father, disappeared behind us.

“I can drive,” he choked out the words as the tears escaped his eyes.

I felt wretched for putting him through this. I gripped his waist and pushed his foot off the gas pedal with my own. I pulled him across my lap, prying his hands from the wheel, and taking his place in the driver’s seat, careful not to let the truck swerve.

He went limp next to me, then he was sobbing violently. I couldn’t imagine the agony he felt, leaving his father like that. His sobs became more and more violent until he was shaking. I reached out my arm and pulled him tightly to my side, his hands clutched at my shirt as he tried to steady his shaking breaths.

“Shhh…” I rubbed his arm with my hand.

“God, I hate myself.” His words were hardly above a rough whisper.

“You were doing what you had to do to protect him.” I soothed.

The lights of the jeep flared behind us. Beau stiffened in panic, his eyes wide with horror as he stared out the back window.

“It’s just Alice,” I reassured him, taking his hand again.

“The tracker?”

“He heard the end of your performance,” I said, my voice grim.

“Charlie?” He asked, his voice full of dread.

“Charlie’s fine. The tracker followed us. He’s running behind us now.”

I could hear his heart race, and his body felt suddenly cold. “Can we outrun him?”

“No.” I tried to urge the truck to go faster, but the engine only whined in protest.

He was still staring out the back window when the truck shuddered as Emmett landed in the truck bed.

A strangled sound of panic escaped his lips and his fingers dug into my shirt.

“It’s Emmett!” I reassured him.

I wound my arm tightly around his waist, trying to will him to calm down.

“It’s okay, Beau,” I promised. “You’re going to be safe.”

We raced through the quiet town toward the north highway. I tried desperately to think of a way to distract him.

“I didn’t realize you were still so bored with small-town life,” I said, using my most conversational tone. I imagined he was too clever to be fooled by attempts at distraction. “It seemed like you were adjusting fairly well—especially recently. Maybe I was just flattering myself that I was making life more interesting for you. Then again, I _am_ just some stupid boy.”

“I wasn’t being nice,” He said quietly, almost to himself, his eyes on his knees. “That was the same thing my mom said when she left him. You could say I was hitting below the belt.”

“Don’t worry. He’ll forgive you.” I smiled as best as I could. It was a hollow promise. I couldn’t read Charlie Swan’s mind. I didn’t know for certain. I only knew he loved his son very much, so I hoped I was right.

Beau stared at me, desperation and panic in his wide eyes.

“Beau, it’s going to be all right.”

“It won’t be, not when you have to leave,” he whispered, “I just said my goodbyes to Charlie and now I’ll have to say goodbye to you.”

“We’ll be together again in a few days,” I said, tightening my arm around him. “Don’t forget this was your idea.”

“It was the best idea—of course it was mine.”

I answered him with a smile, but I could feel the bleak expression on my face. I knew it wasn’t very reassuring and dropped it immediately.

“Why did this happen?” He asked, his voice catching. “Why me?”

As I stared at the dark road ahead I felt the guilt wash over me in burning waves. I knew why. I had seen the tracker—the monster’s—mind. “It’s my fault—I was a fool to expose you like that.” Something in my tone made him eye me warily. Perhaps the unfiltered rage I felt for myself.

“That’s not what I meant,” he insisted. “I was there, big deal. It didn’t bother the other two. Why did James decide to kill _me_? There’re people all over the place, why me?”

The guilt burned anew. As always, he was too perceptive, and he always knew just the wrong question to ask me.

“I got a good look at his mind tonight,” my voice was low. “I’m not sure if there’s anything I could have done to avoid this once he saw you. It _is_ partially your fault.” I tried to sound wry, but I wasn’t sure if it was working. “If you didn’t smell so damn luscious, he might not have bothered. But when I defended you… well, that made it a lot worse. He’s not used to being thwarted, no matter how insignificant the object. He thinks of himself as a hunter and nothing else. His existence is consumed with tracking and a challenge—a large clan of strong fighters bent on protecting the one vulnerable element. You wouldn’t believe how euphoric he is now. It’s his favorite game, and we’ve just made it his most exciting game ever.” I couldn’t hide the disgust from my voice as I remembered the unpleasant atmosphere of the monster’s mind.

But what could I have done differently? There was nothing.

“But if I had stood by, he would have killed you right then,” I sighed, hopelessly.

“I thought… I didn’t smell the same to the others… as I do to you,” he said hesitantly.

“You don’t. But that doesn’t mean you aren’t still a temptation to every one of them. If you _had_ appealed to the tracker—or any of them—the same way you appeal to me, it would have meant a fight right there.”

He shuddered.

“I don’t think I have any choice but to kill him now,” I muttered. “Carlisle won’t like it.”

I hoped Carlisle would be understanding, at least. I began to formulate a plan of how we could corner the tracker and perform the deed.

As we began to cross the bridge leading to the house, Beau seemed to become suddenly urgent.

“How can you kill a vampire?”

My eyes flickered toward him. I wondered if his question was out of some morbid curiosity or the need to be reassured that it could actually be done. It was an unpleasant business, but I didn’t see the point in being evasive. “The only way to be sure is to tear him to shreds, and then burn the pieces.”

“And the other two will fight with him?”

“The red-head will. I’m not sure about Laurent. They don’t have a very strong bond—he’s only with them for convenience. He was embarrassed by James in the meadow…”

“But James and the red-head—they’ll try to kill you?” He asked, his voice raw.

“Beau, don’t you _dare_ waste time worrying about me. I put you in danger. It’s my fault you had to hurt Charlie and run away from home. Your only concern should be keeping yourself safe.”

“Is he still following?”

“Yes. He won’t attack the house, though. Not tonight.”

I turned off onto the drive, with Alice following close behind.

I drove right up to the house, not daring to stop any farther than I had to. Emmett leapt from the bed of the truck and had Beau’s door open before the truck had stopped; he pulled Beau out of the seat, tucked him against his chest and ran him through the door. Alice and I stayed close by his side.

As we reached the main room, I was taken aback by the presence of a mind I did not count among my family. Only Carlisle’s gentle, mental assurances kept me from tearing into the room with my teeth bared. Everyone was on their feet and Laurent stood in the midst of them. Alice combed through her visions and Emmett was immediately on edge, deep growls emanating from his chest as he set Beau down next to me.

“He’s tracking us,” I announced, glaring at Laurent.

 _Damn fool…_ “I was afraid of that.” Laurent said, unhappily.

Alice rushed to Jasper’s side. “We’re taking Beau to Phoenix, we need to get ready.” She whispered. They hurried up the stairs together. Royal watched them, and then moved quickly to Emmett’s side. His eyes flickered, only briefly and unwillingly, to Beau’s face and his thoughts were of wordless fury.

“What will he do?” Carlisle coldly asked Laurent.

“I’m sorry,” he answered. “I was afraid when your boy there defended the human that it would set him off.”

“Can you stop him?”

Laurent shook his head. “Nothing stops James when he gets started.”

“We’ll stop him,” Emmett promised. _Stop him dead…_

“You can’t bring him down. I’ve never seen anything like him in my three hundred years. He’s absolutely lethal. That’s why I joined his coven.”

Of course… How had I not noticed? The air of superiority in James’s mind. The slight passiveness in Laurent’s… I had been too worried about Beau to notice.

Laurent shook his head. He glanced at Beau, perplexed. _So much trouble for just a little human…_ He glanced back to Carlisle. “Are you sure it’s worth it?”

My enraged roar filled the room; Laurent cringed back from me.

Carlisle stepped in, his face grave. “I’m afraid you’re going to have to make a choice.”

Laurent understood. _How tempting an offer… All this. Alas, I’m no fool…_ He thought as he looked across all our faces and around the room.

“I’m intrigued by the life you’ve created here. But I won’t get in the middle of this. I bear none of you any enmity, but I won’t go up against James. I think I will head north—to that clan in Denali.” He hesitated. “Don’t underestimate James. He’s got a brilliant mind and unparalleled senses. He’s every bit as comfortable in the human world as you seem to be, and he won’t come at you head on… I’m sorry for what’s been unlashed here. Truly sorry.” He bowed his head, but his eyes flickered back to Beau. _How could all this be worth such an unremarkable human?_

“Go in peace,” was Carlisle’s coldly formal answer.

Laurent took another look long look around himself, and then hurried out the door.

There was no more time to waste.

“How close?” Carlisle looked to me.

Esme was already moving; her hand touched the inconspicuous keypad on the wall and engaged the security system. With a groan, the huge metal shutters began sealing up the glass wall. I combed the nearby woods for signs of our enemies.

“About three miles out past the river,” I answered, “he’s circling around to meet up with the red-head.”

“What’s the plan?”

“We’ll lead them off, and then Jasper and Alice will run Beau south.”

“And then?”

My tone turned deadly. “As soon is Beau is clear, we hunt the tracker.”

“I guess there’s no other choice,” Carlisle agreed. I didn’t need to see his grim face to know how much the thought of destroying James bothered him. Although our enemy, Carlisle detested the loss of any life. Human or vampire.

I turned to Royal.

“Get him upstairs and trade clothes,” I commanded. Royal only stared back at me in livid disbelief.

“Why should I?” He hissed. “What is he to me? Except a menace—a danger you’ve chosen to inflict on all of us.”

I felt Beau flinch back from the disgusting venom in Royal’s voice.

“Roy…,” Emmett murmured, putting on hand on Royal’s shoulder, who shook it off.

Beau was watching me cautiously as Royal and I stared each other down. It was a strain, especially in this moment, to keep myself calm.

 _Maybe he needs to learn_ , Royal was thinking, his eyes boring into mine. _Sometimes no one comes to save you. Sometimes, you’re alone in the world and the world decides your number is up. Sometimes you die._ _Sometimes you should just die._

It was a moment of insight into Royal that I hadn’t quite seen before. Angry as I was, I could try to understand his perspective. No one had come to help him when he needed it most. What I couldn’t comprehend was why he wouldn’t want to help Beau now. Wouldn’t he have wanted someone to help him? Whatever deeper thoughts kept Royal from wanting to help now, he kept to himself.

“Aw, hell,” Emmett was the first to speak, “C’mon, Beau.”

He was immediately at Beau’s side, swinging him into his arms, and dashing up the stairs before Beau had time to react.

“Carlisle, please get the cars ready. I need to get Beau’s bag from the truck. Esme, can you go upstairs and put on Beau’s clothes? Emmett won’t fit.” I looked to each of them.

They both nodded and turned to leave.

“Thank you… both.” I said, stopping them. “You’re more than I ever deserved in this life.”

 _We love you, Edward. You are our son and we would do anything for you and for Beau_. Esme thought before hurrying up the stairs.

Carlisle nodded again, then hurried to the garage.

“I hope he’s worth it, Edward.” Royal finally spoke. His voice was cold and unfeeling.

I ignored him and ran to the truck, grabbing Beau’s duffel bag. I glanced around the dark woods, listening carefully for any signs of the tracker. Finding only silence, I hurried back inside. Jasper met me inside, handing me a backpack.

“For Emmett,” He said. “Is that Beau’s?” He held out his hand for the duffel.

“Thank you, Jasper.” I nodded. “I mean it, thank you.”

He smiled, then chuckled softly. “I think after all the watching out you’ve done for me, I owe you.”

A thought crossed my mind then.

 _You and your instructions, Edward, honestly_ , I could hear Alice’s thoughts as she saw the outcome of my decision, somewhere between amusement and annoyance from upstairs.

I ran and grabbed a piece of paper and a pen to jot down a list of instructions for Alice. It was all I could do to ensure everything was taken care of. I finished my list of instructions, folded it up and hurried back to Jasper.

“For Alice.” I said, handing the paper to him. He raised an eyebrow.

_I can’t wait to hear what she thinks of this._

Emmett and Alice came down the stairs then with Beau in tow. Emmett set Beau down at the base of the stairs, he stumbled slightly, looking uneasy in Emmett’s oversized clothes. I handed the backpack off to Emmett, who headed out toward the garage. Esme appeared then from upstairs, wearing Beau’s old clothes, her hair tucked into a baseball cap. Carlisle appeared from the garage, meeting her at the base of the stairs and handing her a cell phone. He turned and handed Alice another.

“Esme and Royal will be taking your truck, Beau,” he explained to Beau as he passed. “We’re hoping the scent of your clothes might confuse the tracker into thinking Esme is you.” Beau nodded, glancing warily at Royal who, as expected, was glowering at Carlisle resentfully.

“Alice, Jasper—take the Mercedes. You’ll need the dark tint in the south.”

They nodded as well.

“We’ll take the Jeep.”

Beau suddenly looked surprised, then upset as his eyes darted between Carlisle and myself.

“Alice,” Carlisle asked, “will they take the bait?”

We all watched Alice as she closed her eyes and became incredibly still. I felt some relief as I watched the visions with her.

She opened her eyes. “He’ll track you. The red-head will follow the truck. We should be able to leave after that.”

“Let’s go.” Carlisle began to walk toward the kitchen.

Emmett gave Beau a gentle pat on the back, “Don’t ruin that shirt,” he grinned. Beau managed a feeble smile back; Emmett looked at him for a moment, then pulled him into a tight side-hug. “We’ll keep you safe, big guy.” He smiled warmly.

Royal was glaring at them.

I was at Beau’s side as soon as Emmett had left. I crushed him to me, taking in as much of him as I could while I still had the chance. Only Beau mattered in that moment as I pulled his face to mine and kissed him. His lips burned life fire against mine. The kiss was too short, but I had no time. I set him down, still holding his face, my eyes burning into the molten silver of his.

“Remember, you are my life.”

“I love you.”

And I forced myself away from him. It was like leaving my heart behind me. But I had to keep him safe, no matter what, and if this was how then I had to be strong.

 Carlisle and Emmett met me at the jeep, and we were off, tearing into the night. Carlisle handed me a phone.

“Give the signal.” His voice was solemn.

I listened to the night.

 _Game on…_ The tracker’s mind was easy to find. He began cautiously tracking Carlisle and myself in the jeep. I made the call.

Esme picked up immediately.

“Go.” I commanded into the phone, and she hung up.

I listened carefully, waiting. The tracker was still in pursuit of the jeep. At first, it was hard for me to find the red-head, though I wasn’t sure why. When I found him, I closed my eyes, concentrating on his strange, shifting mind.

_What are you doing… What are you waiting for?_

I watched through his mind as Royal stalked out of the house, carrying Esme in his arms, they made it to the truck and took off as fast as the ancient thing could go. Esme stayed low in the cab, keeping her movements slow and timid. The red-head began following, keeping an overly-cautious distance.

I opened my eyes and called Alice’s phone, she answered before the first ring had even finished.

“The red-head is following Esme and Royal. Leave now.” I paused for a fraction of a second. “And Alice, remember my instructions.”

“Edward says the red-head is on Esme’s trail. I’ll get the car.” I heard her say before she hung up the phone.

I closed my eyes and tried to concentrate on finding the minds of the tracker and the red-head. It was a strange sort of torture. I knew they were pursuing my family, which meant they weren’t after Beau. My family was safe enough. I trusted they could take care of themselves. Though I could not banish all worry from my mind. The other side of this torture was that while I could keep an eye on Royal and Esme from the red-head’s mind, I had no eyes on Beau. His absence ate away at my very core.

My entire being ached for him. I could only trust Alice and Jasper to keep him safe and I could only dream and hope that we would be together again.


	21. Impatience

The days seemed to run together. The never-ending game of cat and mouse, the relentless running, the constant worry. The hunt was still on. It felt as though we were running in circles, and in truth we were. Circles and loops, leading the hunter as far away from Forks as we could. We were heading north. That was the plan. As far north as we could get the tracker to go. Meanwhile, Esme and Royal were leading the red-head east, and my heart was escaping south with Beau.

There were the most ephemeral of moments where I would let my mind wander. Mostly I was entirely preoccupied with reading the tracker’s mind. Gauging his decisions, monitoring his thoughts. But every chance I could, I would think of Beau. I would achingly wonder what he was doing, where he was, and—as I so often did—what he was thinking.

Alice had kept me updated as discreetly as she could with too brief phone calls while Beau was sleeping. I wondered how soundly he was resting, I doubted he slept very deeply. I’m sure he was fitful, muttering endlessly in his sleep. I cautioned her to not make him worry more than necessary. I hoped she listened. Surely she was watching us, watching decisions, watching the future and she would tell Beau every detail she could see—as though he would let her skip over anything!

Would it comfort him? No, surely it would only add to his anxiety. The endless cycles of running through unending forests, the feints, the deceits… But as long as the future never spelled out danger, I could run for all of eternity if it kept him safe.

“He’s going to be okay, Edward,” Emmett had assured me, the hundredth time in the last hour. “He’s tough. I’m not worried about him.”

I wanted to share Emmett’s assuredness. I knew Beau was strong, I knew he could handle nearly anything, but he was still human. Still so fragile. Physically, there were so many ways he could be hurt, but as the hunt stretched on, I became increasingly aware of all the ways a human’s mind could wear down from the constant worry and panic.

By my estimations, Alice and Jasper had made it to Phoenix by now with Beau. Likely they had found a place to stay near a major airport, that would be the most logical plan—just in case.

I was sure Beau was worried, not just about me—why did he always worry so much about me? But also, about Emmett and Carlisle, about Esme and Royal, and especially about Charlie. I wished I could have assured him more that Charlie would forgive him before we had parted. I couldn’t read Charlie’s mind enough to know exactly what he had been thinking when Beau ran from the house, but I felt that Charlie’s love for his son was strong enough to get through this.

My only solace, my greatest motivation, was recalling the perfect image of Beau’s face in my mind. His ivory skin, his brown curls, and his piercing silver eyes digging into the core of my very being with that peculiar bewildered gaze of his. In a strange way, I felt as though I was running towards that image. But with every second, every mile that flew by the image seemed to grow farther and farther away. As if no matter how quickly I ran I couldn’t get any closer to Beau. It was more true than metaphorical.

Just when I began to feel we would never stop being chased, the tracker changed the game.

A sudden, swift thought crossed his mind. He was questioning the hunt.

“Carlisle,” I called, “He knows we don’t have Beau. I think he’s known for a while.”

“Emmett, turn around!” Carlisle ordered.

Emmett nodded once as we all spun on our heels. The hunter was now the hunted. I could see what Carlisle and Emmett were thinking; similar thoughts, different methods.

Carlisle hoped we could corner the tracker and subdue him, incapacitate him somehow. Emmett, meanwhile, hoped to catch the tracker and destroy him right here in the woods.

Unfortunately, neither outcome was in the cards for us. The tracker was too smart, he was already running—fast—to the north.

I feverishly began to fantasize that I might catch him. That I would get to James before Emmett got his hands on him, before Carlisle had a chance to attempt to reason with him. What would I do? For all Emmett’s brute strength, I imagined I would be more cruel by far in my dealings with the tracker… the monster…

I was grateful he chose to continue north—it meant he was heading further away from Beau—but more than anything I was frustrated. The hunt was the tracker’s greatest passion, he wasn’t giving up. He was just trying to find a different way to claim his prize.

Carlisle’s phone vibrated in his pocket, it was to his ear in an instant.

“Esme…” He breathed. “Yes… I see.”

I couldn’t stop myself from reading his mind. The redhead had given up chasing Esme and Royal, realizing that Beau wasn’t with them either. The redhead, Victor, had retreated back to Forks. Esme was watching over Charlie now, while Royal kept an eye on the redhead’s movements.

“Keep me updated.” Carlisle said before returning the phone to his pocket. “The redhead was searching the town, the airport, and the school.”

What was the game? Surely he didn’t actually think we would leave Beau in Forks alone? Unless perhaps they thought Alice and Jasper had stayed in Forks with Beau. It was plausible, but something seemed off to me.

The chase continued, much as it had. I didn’t bother keeping track of how long we had been chasing James. He was nearly as good at running away as he was at tracking. Half a dozen times he had led us back towards Forks, only to race off in the other direction again. It was maddening. Being tricked again and again. Twice Alice called Carlisle to give us instructions on how to best catch up to the tracker. We chased him far north to a set of cliffs along the Olympic Peninsula, we lost his trail when he jumped to the waters. Alice informed us he had jumped in a western direction, which helped us estimate where to start looking for the trail again. It helped save some precious time.

The next time Alice called, the tracker had jumped into a river, but she told us where to find his scent again on the other side. I reveled in the frustration he must have felt when we found his trail again so easily. A fleeting solace. I couldn’t be sure, of course, he managed to keep himself just out of reach of my abilities. He probably suspected something at this point, wondered how we were able to so quickly find his trail again and again. He was being exceedingly cautious.

“Where do you think you’ll take Beau?” Emmett asked, casually, as we ran. “If we can’t catch the tracker, I mean. You could go to Alaska?”

“Beau doesn’t like the cold.” I answered.

“Oh. What about, I don’t know, Rio? You like Rio.”

“Rio is a good place to disappear to, I suppose.”

 _I was just getting to know the kid, too…_ He thought, disappointed.

I wanted to tell him that he’d have more chances to get to know Beau, but I didn’t know what the future held anymore. I couldn’t ask my family to uproot themselves and run with us, could I?

“What’s that face?” Emmett asked.

“I don’t know. I suppose we’ll have to keep moving if it comes to that. I don’t like the idea of putting Beau through it, though.”

“If you have to go take Beau somewhere, you can count on the rest of us to get the tracker, Edward. Give us some credit.” Emmett chuckled.

“I know you’ll all do everything you can,” I replied, “but even now he’s managed to elude us at every turn. I’m beginning to feel like this may never end.”

“What’s a few years of hunting?” Emmett deadpanned.

In any other situation, I would have laughed.

“Stop stressing so much.” He sighed.

“If only I could.”

And we continued running.

My mind wandered, yet again, to Beau. He seemed so far away now in my mind, like I might never see him again. Perhaps I deserved that—to never see Beau again. After all, was it not my own recklessness and selfishness that had put him in such danger? Was it not my own foolishness that had torn us apart? I had done this. I might as well have put Beau on a plane and sent him to the other side of the world.

“You know, we don’t visit Canada enough.” Emmett mused aloud, pulling me from my thoughts.

I stared at him blankly for a moment. “Emmett… What?”

He looked at me with a confused expression for a moment, before gesturing vaguely at our surroundings.

“Are we in Canada?” I asked. Had I been so absorbed in my own thoughts that I hadn’t noticed?

He rolled his eyes, “Come on, Edward, you’ve got to pay better attention than that if we’re going to catch this guy.”

“I don’t think that will help much at this point,” Carlisle sighed, coming to a stop. “He’s gone in there.” He pointed to the nearby airport.

“Where’s he going?” Emmett huffed, “How’d he book a flight at an airport looking like he did?”

“He’s gone back to Forks,” I said, frustration rendering the words in a dull monotone.

“You read his mind?” Carlisle asked.

“No, but I‘m assuming he’ll want to meet up with the redhead.”

“It’s likely. I’ll call Alice.” Carlisle said, pulling the phone from his pocket. “Alice.” He said, almost immediately. “We’ve lost the tracker. We followed him all the way to Canada, but we lost him just outside of Vancouver. We’re not sure where he’s headed to next. Edward believes he’s heading back to Forks.” He paused for a moment as Alice responded. I listened to her through his mind as she described the vision she had seen of the tracker. Wherever he was going, he would find himself in two rooms. A room of mirrors and a dark room with a television and a VCR.

“Carlisle.” I called.

He nodded once, “Alice, give the phone to Beau.” Then he handed his phone to me.

“Hello?” Beau’s sweet, anxious voice was like music.

“Beau,” I could only breath out his name.

“Oh, Edward,” he cried. “Where are you?”

“Outside of Vancouver. I’m sorry, Beau—we lost him. He seems suspicious of us—he stays just far enough away that I can’t hear him. He’s gone now—looks like he took a plane. We think he’s heading back to Forks to start over.”

“I know. Alice saw that he got away.” Beau sighed.

“You don’t have to worry, though. He won’t find anything to lead him to you. You just have to stay there and wait till we find him again.”

“I’ll be fine. Is Esme with Charlie?”

“Yes—the red-head’s been in town. He went to the house, but while Charlie was at work. He hasn’t gone near your father. Don’t worry—Charlie’s safe with Esme and Royal watching.”

“What do you think Victor is doing?”

“Probably trying to pick up the trail. He’s been all through the town during the night. Royal traced him through the airport, all the roads around town, the school… he’s digging, Beau, but there’s nothing to find.”

“And you’re sure Charlie’s safe?”

“Yes, Esme won’t let him out of her sight. And we’ll be there soon. If the tracker gets anywhere near Forks, we’ll have him.”

He swallowed. “Be careful. Stay with Carlisle and Emmett.”

Always so worried about me. “I will.”

“I miss you,” he whispered.

“I know, believe me, I know. It’s like you’ve taken half of my self away with you.”

“Come and get it, then.” He challenged.

The ache I felt was excruciating. I nearly threw the phone down and took off in a run straight to Phoenix right then and there. But I couldn’t do that. Not yet. “As soon as I possibly can.” I promised him. “I _will_ make you safe first.”

“I love you.”

“Could you believe that, despite everything I’ve put you through, I love you, too?”

“Yes, I can.” His voice was gentle.

“I’ll come for you soon.”

“I’ll wait for you.”

I had so much more I wanted to say to him, but I couldn’t. I felt like if I said anything else I’d forget what I was here for, why I was so impossibly far from him. All I could do was hang up the phone. I turned to Carlisle, and he measured my expression with some concern.

“You look like a mess, Edward.” Emmett raised an eyebrow. “You need to get it together. We’ve got to get moving.”

“Yes,” Carlisle agreed. “We best head straight back to Forks.”

I turned to run, but Carlisle caught my arm.

“We’ll fly there. That way we’ll have a better chance of catching the tracker’s scent when we arrive in Seattle,” he paused, “if he is, in fact, heading back to Forks.”

I couldn’t fathom the frustration of waiting on a plane to get me to my destination, but Carlisle was right. We straightened up our clothing, ran fingers through our hair, and put on our familiar façade of humanity as we made our way to the airport.

I was largely on autopilot. I was grateful that Carlisle was there. Even after days of running he could still manage to appear perfectly human and at ease. I wouldn’t have been able to deal with humans on my own. We caught the first flight out to Seattle. I nearly had to shut down completely to keep myself from feeling like a bomb waiting to explode. Every labored step through the airport, every second that ticked by was a torture.

As the plane took off, I found myself wishing it was taking me further south, to the unforgiving sun of Phoenix and to Beau’s ever forgiving arms.


	22. Flight

We had just landed in Seattle. It was some time after two in the morning and Carlisle was debating whether to rent a car or simply run back to Forks once we had made it out of the city. Naturally, my impulse was to run. There was no trace of the tracker’s scent in the airport and I was anxious to pick up the trail again. I had hoped we’d find him as soon we landed, but not knowing where he had gone made me more frustrated than ever.

I was so sure he would have returned to Forks, to meet up with the red-head if nothing else. I felt genuine fear at the prospect of not knowing where he could possibly be. Being so utterly clueless. We had no lead, we had no direction to go. I prayed Alice had seen something in her visions that might give us some semblance of a lead. I thought of the visions she had relayed to us but try as I might I couldn’t fathom where the rooms she had seen could be. They held no importance to me, no spark of recognition.

I was so distracted by my own thoughts I barely noticed Carlisle answer his phone.

“Alice, we—” Carlisle stopped short. He listened as Alice hurriedly explained what had happened. His eyes were wide and he was more still than he should be around humans.

I abandoned all pretense of courtesy and listened through his mind. The tracker was in Phoenix. Or at least he would be. Alice explained that Beau had recognized the mirror room as a dance studio in Phoenix. Moreover, a new vision of Alice’s had helped Beau to recognize the room with the television and the VCR as his mother’s house. The tracker was closer to Beau than I was.

How could I have been so foolish? I couldn’t have been more wrong! Rage, fear, and despair filled every fiber of my being. I felt every muscle tense in my body. I wanted to run straight to Phoenix right then and there.

Emmett moved closer, sensing my rising tension and ready to hold me back should he need to. “Easy, Edward, easy,” he cautioned.

“Emmett,” Carlisle’s voice was sharp, “first available flight to Phoenix. Now.”

Emmett nodded once and left to book the flight.

“Alice,” Carlisle’s voice was still sharp, “Get Beau to the airport, we’re taking the first flight out and we’ll meet you there. Once we arrive, we’ll take Beau somewhere safe. You and Jasper stay in Phoenix in case his mother comes home.”

He hung up the phone, turning to me.

_Stay as calm as you can manage,_ he thought,  _we’re in a very public place, Edward._

I made a show of relaxing my posture, but I could see myself in his mind and I didn’t look nearly human enough. He sighed, placing a cautious hand on my shoulder. “It will be alright, Edward.” His words were hope, not promise.

“Let’s move.” Emmett called, waving three tickets at us as he approached. “First flight out isn’t ‘till six.”

Was everything in the universe conspiring together to work against me? I found it increasingly difficult to practice any measure of patience. I quickly did the calculations in my head; it would take three or four hours to get to Phoenix once we were in the air, but if the plane didn’t even leave until six then that meant four long hours of waiting, doing nothing and then another long four hours on a plane. This was hell, there was no other explanation.

Eight hours, and the tracker had a head start. I felt completely hopeless.

“What if I start running now?” I snapped, my patience all but spent. “If I run as fast as I can straight to Phoenix—”

“You’ll look like a speeding disco ball once the sun comes up,” Emmett raised an eyebrow. “Even running as fast as you can, in full on sun? No chance. Someone will see you.”

“He’s right, Edward,” Carlisle sighed, “The chances of being seen would be too great if you were thinking rationally and cautiously.” His eyes locked onto mine, a meaningful expression coloring his gaze. “And you are not thinking rationally, or cautiously.”

“But Carlisle—” I tried to argue, but he cut me off.

“Edward, please.” His voice was firm. “I know you are worried, I can’t imagine how difficult this must be for you—the thought of waiting—but recklessness won’t help Beau right now.”

“Besides, Alice and Jasper are with him,” Emmett chimed in, “they won’t let anything happen to him.” I smirk danced on his lips. “Alice already loves the kid so much, she’d probably rip the tracker to pieces all by herself before Jasper could even get close.”

“So, please, Edward,” Carlisle continued, “do your best to exercise as much control and patience as you can.”

I couldn’t argue, with either of them. The logic was sound on both sides. So, with no other choice available to me, I waited.

We sat in the terminal, trying to look human. Carlisle called Esme to inform her of the change of plans and Emmett mindlessly watched the nearby televisions. Occasionally he would elbow me to remind me to not be so still. I had to be still, though. Despite what Carlisle and Emmet had said, I still wanted to run. If I didn’t focus all my energy on remaining a statue I would run as fast as I could out of the airport and straight to Beau.

The minutes ticked by, I watched the nearby clock obsessively. Every tick of the second-hand felt like the stab of a knife. In my frustrated impatience I gripped too tightly on the arm of the metal chair I was sitting in. The arm bent and snapped under my stone grip.

Emmett’s eyes darted to me, he raised an eyebrow at the broken arm and snorted. “Nice.”

“Shut up, Emmett.” I growled.

Finally, an announcement came over the speakers around five-thirty that we could board. I was already on my feet and Carlisle was immediately on the phone.

“Alice, we’re boarding our plan. We should be landing at nine-forty-five.” He said. He paused. “Alright.” He turned to me and held out the phone.

I took it and placed it to my ear. “What is it, Alice?” I asked, my voice too sharp.

“Jasper’s checking out now.” She was speaking at a speed only I could understand. I wondered if Beau was nearby. “We’ll take Beau to the airport and stay with him until you get there. Then we’ll relocate closer to his mother’s house.”

“Alright.” I could hear the strain in my voice, I wondered how much of it was my frustration and how much of it was my desperate need to just hear Beau’s voice again.

“I wanted to tell you the plan, I can’t imagine how you must be feeling right now but I promise you, Edward, I will do everything I can to keep Beau safe until you get here.”

“Thank you.” I sighed. “I’m sorry, Alice.”

“I know. It’s alright.” She said simply, “Beau just came out of his room, I need to tell him the plan and get him ready.”

And the phone went silent.

 

The flight was even more of a torture than the waiting in the terminal. At least in the terminal I knew Alice could call me if something changed. In the air, I had no way of knowing what was happening on the ground. My only solace was the welcome announcement from the captain that we would be arriving ten minutes sooner than expected.

I felt strange. Normally I felt like I had time to measure and consider everything around me. I didn’t feel like that now. I felt like I barely had the time to think anymore. Some part of me reasoned that this must be what it was like to be human. I barely remembered that at this point. I wondered if this must be somewhat how Beau felt.

When the plane landed, my mind began to feverishly imagine seeing him again. He would be there, waiting for me, probably standing on his toes to see over the crowds of people. I imagined how I would have to force myself to move at a decently human pace through the crowd of people between us. And then, when I saw him, I would surely lose that composure and run faster than I ought to, so I could more quickly close that unwanted distance between us. I would wrap my arms around his warm, soft body and he’d be with me again. We would be together and he would finally be safe.

But that’s not how it would be. We moved cautiously through the terminal, keeping to the shadows, avoiding the sun. Then I heard her.

_Edward! Edward! Hurry!_

Alice’s panicked thoughts rang out through the terminal. I caught her scent quickly.

“Carlisle, Emmett—” My words came out in a strangled voice.

They looked at my face with concern. Emmett’s eyes widened, Carlisle’s face turned grave. We hurried towards where Alice was, Emmett would occasionally catch my arm to slow me down when I started moving too quickly.

I saw Alice, her eyes wide with despair and a piece of paper in her hand, I rushed to her side.

“What is it? Where’s Beau?” I hissed.

She didn’t need to answer. I saw it in her mind.

He had left with Jasper to get something to eat, but then he ran. He ran away. He was already long gone. Alice’s visions told me what I was most afraid of. He was in the mirrored room with the tracker, or he would be very soon.

“No, no, no…” I tried to keep my voice low.

“Edward…” She held the paper out to me.

I snatched it from her hand and read the words in Beau’s messy handwriting.

 

 

_I love you. I am so sorry. He has my mom, and I have to try. I know it may not work. I am so very, very sorry._

_Don’t be angry with Alice and Jasper. If I get away from them it will be a miracle. Tell them thank you for me. Alice especially, please._

_And please, please don’t come after him. That’s what he wants, I think. I can’t bear it if anyone has to be hurt because of me, especially you. Please this is the only thing I can ask you now. For me._

_I love you. Forgive me._

_Beau._

 

If my heart could still beat it would have stopped, then it would have broken.

“Carlisle…” My voice was strained. “Carlisle, I…”

“We need to move. Now.” His voice was serious. “Alice, is my bag in the car?”

“In the trunk, I made sure all your supplies were well stocked.” Her eyes flickered to me. “Just in case.”

“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.” He said solemnly. “Let’s go.”

“The keys, Jasper has the keys,” Alice said, hopelessness coloring her tone.

“Beau doesn’t have time for this!” I snapped, and before they could react I was already moving.

“Edward!” Carlisle called.

“Whoa, bro, come back!” Emmett boomed.

_Edward, wait…_ Alice’s pleading thoughts.

But I didn’t have time to wait. Beau couldn’t afford me waiting.

I rushed through the airport, sliding between the clumsy, agonizingly slow humans. I couldn’t run like I wanted to nor would I be able to once I was out of the airport, but I couldn’t waste any time.

“You really need to learn some patience, Edward,” Alice’s chiding voice came from just behind me.

“I don’t have time for this, Alice.”

“I’m coming with you.” She retorted.

“Alice—”

“Make a left,” She snapped, turning sharply and heading towards an escalator.

“I can’t waste any time getting to Beau.” I hissed. “I need to get there fast.”

“Oh,” Alice’s eyes widened with a spark of excitement as the decision I made brought a new vision into focus. “Well, that’ll do it.” She smirked. “Turn right, through those doors.”

Sure enough, parked on the curb just outside the airport in the passenger pick up area was my salvation.

“That’s a fast car,” her eyes glistened as she glanced over the Ford GT’s sleek black paintjob. “The owner isn’t looking, let’s go.”

I sped around to the driver’s side and slid into the seat. The keys were in the ignition. Maybe things were finally going my way.

“At least we didn’t have to hot-wire it!” Alice chirped.

“As if that would be difficult for you,” I sighed.

I hit the gas and sped off, the owner of the car began screaming and cursing from behind us.

“He’ll get it back,” Alice shrugged, “Probably, at least.”

I didn’t answer. My eyes were locked on the road, weaving in and out of traffic.

“I told the others where to go, they went to get our car and they should be right behind us.” Alice said, glancing in the rearview mirror.

No sooner had she spoken then their car whipped out in front of a slow-moving Toyota and trailed just behind us.

I drove quickly down the hot, dusty roads. Alice sat mostly still, only her head was slowly tilting from side to side as she combed through visions, looking for clues, for some small measure of hope that we might succeed in saving Beau. Occasionally she would give me directions on which way to go. Beyond that, as we weaved through traffic, I began to make plans.

Plans for what I would do if I failed.

After all, there was no hope of continuing on, no point to it if I lost Beau. I could not bear that alternative. My entire existence up to that point had been meaningless, an endless loop of play-acting, of hiding… A half-life. Beau had changed all of that. He had given me purpose again and meaning. He accepted me for the monster I was and loved me despite it. He pushed me to be better. What I wouldn’t give to hear him scold me for my temper, to have him chide me for my hasty actions! The thought of never experiencing that again was excruciating. It was a pain greater than any I had ever known or could imagine.

Death, if that’s what you could call it, was not so easy for my kind. Was it even death? It was ending the existence of something, yes. But can death come to one who has no life? In any case, it would be difficult. Only another of my kind could give me that release. I couldn’t ask Emmett or Jasper. They’d never agree to it. Royal might, though everyone else would try to stop him.

Ah, of course. My only real option became increasingly clear to me the closer we got to our destination. The Volturi.

_Stop it right now, Edward. Don’t you dare._ Alice’s thoughts broke me from my own. _We’ll get to him in time._

Of course, she would see the course of my decisions as they became more solidified in my mind. Of course, she would be upset. Of course, she would tell me we would make it to Beau in time.

I tried not to think of how devastated Esme would be, the disappointment and heartbreak of Carlisle. Emmett wouldn’t be able to understand, but hopefully Royal would provide some solace since I half wondered if he would even care. Alice would never get over it, but Jasper would probably be the most understanding. He knew what it was to be lost, drifting, without purpose and without hope. He had found a second chance when Alice found him. I knew Jasper’s mind well enough to know he wouldn’t want to continue on without her. He would be on my side.

It was decided. If I was too late I would go to Italy, find some way to provoke the Volturi—break a rule, cause a scene, whatever I had to do—and they would end my existence. They would release me from the unending despair and pain of losing Beau. Release me from the horrifying punishment of existing through all eternity knowing that I, in my never ceasing selfishness, had put him in mortal danger and I, in my insurmountable ineptitude, had failed to save him.

A part of me wondered if it was letting me off too easy. After all, if I failed Beau now then surely, I deserved to suffer for all of eternity. That would be right. That would be fair. It would be cowardly and even more unforgivingly selfish of me to seek escape from that punishment, but how could I not?

“Edward.” Alice’s voice was low, serious, full of emotion.

“I’m sorry.” Was all I could say.

As we arrived at the small dance studio, I felt my body tense anew. Alice’s visions were too erratic to know what had happened or what might happen. The tracker was playing games, making it up as he went. No course was set.

I knew that if Beau had never come to Forks, he wouldn’t be facing his death now. If he had never met me, he would not be here. I knew that if by some miracle I managed to save him from this, if I could keep him alive to see tomorrow, the only thing I could do to atone for my sins was to leave him. To hope, despite everything I still so selfishly wanted, that he would find someone else and live a long, happy human life away from me. If the universe would grant me this one favor, I would never ask or expect anything or as long as I continued to exist in this world.

I slammed the brakes, skidding to a stop just outside the dingy building, and leapt from the car, speeding through the burning sunlight.


	23. Decision

I tore the door of the studio off the hinges and instantly my senses were filled with Beau’s scent. His scent was everywhere, but worse than that, his blood was everywhere. It was like a cloud, heavy around me. I was filled with despair. Was I too late? I couldn’t be too late. Please, let me not be too late.

The room to the left was dark, but the lights were on in the larger room to the left, that was where the smell of Beau’s blood was coming from. I smashed through the door.

And there he was.

Crumpled on the floor in a quickly growing pool of blood. The mirror on the wall closest to him was smashed, the shards surrounding him.

The tracker was looming over Beau, a wide, sickening grin on his face.

A furious snarl, deep and wild ripped through my body. The tracker’s eyes snapped to me at once, they widened for a moment, then he smirked.

I launched myself at him, I cleared the distance of the room and caught him by the neck, slamming him back into the wall far away from Beau. The mirror shattered against his body, and he snarled wildly at me, his arms flailing to catch me and loosen my grip on him.

“Good of you to finally show up!” He hissed. “I was worried this was going to be boring. I made a little movie for you and everything, it’s too bad you won’t get to see it now.”

“I’ll destroy you.” I seethed. “I will turn you to ash.”

“It was so easy to trick you, to trick _him_.” His eyes flicked to Beau and back to me, “And he did taste… so… _good_.”

My absolute fury overtook me, I snarled at him and lunged for his neck. He screamed in agony as my teeth tore through his stony skin, ripping off a chunk of flesh that I spat away. He hissed at me, trying to kick me off of him. I gripped his shoulders and threw him with all my strength across the room.

He wasn’t quite able to right himself before he landed. He scrambled to a crouch, ready to attack me, but then Emmett burst into the room and tackled him, followed closely by Jasper, Alice and Carlisle.

“Edward! Get Beau!” Emmett barked, as he twisted the tracker’s arms unnaturally behind his body. The hunter screamed in pain and anger as Emmett continued to wrestle him into submission

I rushed to Beau’s side. My fury melted into despair as the scope of his injuries came into view. He had cuts all over his ivory hands, a large gash in his leg which lay at an unnatural angle, and he was covered in his own blood. His eyes were closed and his skin was paler than usual.

“Oh no, Beau, no!” I cried, my hands desperately trying to find a place I could touch him that wouldn’t cause him more pain.

He didn’t respond, I could barely hear his heartbeat. Especially over Jasper and Emmett’s growling and hissing as they tore the tracker apart behind me.

The hunter let out a guttural scream, my eyes glanced up just in time to see Alice pull his head from his body.

My eyes were instantly back to Beau.

“Beau, please! Beau, listen to me, please, please, Beau, please!” I begged him to wake up, but he didn’t so much as move.

“Carlisle!” I called in desperation as my despair overtook me. “Beau, Beau, no, oh please, no, no!” I couldn’t stop the sobs as they broke from my chest. I had failed. I had killed the only thing I ever loved.

Carlisle was there in an instant, running his fingers over the back of Beau’s head, checking for injuries.

Beau suddenly cried out, gasping.

“Beau!” I cried, half relieved and half despairingly.

“He’s lost a lot of blood,” Carlisle said calmly, methodically checking every injury. “Mostly from his leg—watch out, it’s broken.”

A strangled howl of rage broke through my lips.

Carlisle gently ran his hands down Beau’s side. “Some ribs, too, I think,” he continued.

Beau made a soft, slow sound.

“Beau, you’re going to be fine. Can you hear me, Beau? I love you.”

“Edward,” His voice was weak.

“Yes, I’m here.”

“It hurts,” he whimpered.

“I know, Beau, I know… Oh god”—I had never felt so wretched and useless, I turned to Carlisle, anguished—“can’t you do anything?”

“My bag, please…” Carlisle called. Alice was there in an instant. She stopped short, for a moment, then exhaled sharply. “Hold your breath, Alice, it will help,” Carlisle advised her.

“Alice?” Beau groaned.

“She’s here, she knew where to find you.” I tried to soothe him.

“I’m… sorry, Alice.”

“Shh… it’s okay, Beau, it’s okay.” She comforted him softly.

“My hand hurts,” He choked out the words.

“I know, Beau. Carlisle will give you something, it will stop.” I replied.

Carlisle was already preparing an injection of morphine.

“No, no,” His voice became louder as he spoke. “My hand his burning!” He screamed and opened his eyes; his body began convulsing and spasming.

I felt the fear rising inside of me. “Beau?”

“It’s my hand! It’s burning!” He screamed again, his arm twisting at his side.

“Carlisle! His hand!” I turned my eyes to him, pleading.

Carlisle gently caught Beau’s flailing arm and turn his hand over. His eyes widened in shock. “He bit him.” All trace of calm had left his voice now, he was utterly appalled as he examined the bloody crescent shaped mark on Beau’s hand.

My breath caught in my chest. My mind went blank.

“Edward,” Alice knelt down, close by Beau’s head. “You have to do it.” She began gently wiping the blood from his face. _You’ve already seen it, Edward. Just like I have. What else is there? You have to change him._

As the enormity of what she was suggesting came into focus, I felt as though I was falling from a great height. My despair was overwhelming.

“No!” I bellowed, racked with guilt.

“Alice,” Beau moaned.

“There may be a chance,” Carlisle said as he pulled a surgical thread and a needle from his bag.

“What?” I begged. Any chance, anything else that could stop this from happening.

“See if you can suck the venom back out. The wound is fairly clean.” He began sewing closed the wound on the back of Beau’s head as he spoke.

“Will that work?” I asked in a strained voice. I didn’t dare grasp on to any hope at this point.

“I don’t know,” Carlisle answered. “But we have to hurry.”

“Carlisle, I…” I hesitated. How could I do this? All this time I had spent combatting my thirst, all the self-control I had exercised up to this point, would it be enough?

Suddenly, I saw him. The monster. That image of myself I had seen in Beau’s eyes the first day we met. The hungry, gnawing, greedy, violent killer that I had worked so hard to beat back and vanquish. He was smiling—grinning widely in utter glee.

“I don’t know if I can do that.” Agony filled my voice.

“It’s your decision, Edward, either way. I can’t help you. I have to get this bleeding stopped if you’re going to be taking blood from his hand.”

“Edward!” Beau screamed again. I stared down at him and it pained me more than anything to see him suffer this way. His eyes fluttered open, darting wildly around until they found mine. My heart sank even further as I watched him suffer, knowing I could help him if I was only strong enough.

“Alice, get me something to brace his leg!” Carlisle was trying to hold Beau’s leg still now, Alice darted away, and Carlisle looked back up at me. “Edward, you must do it now, or it will be too late.”

“Alice,” I choked out as she returned, “will it work?”

She looked at me, sadly. “Edward, I… I can only see once a decision has been made. You know that.” Her voice was unbearably soft and sad. “Right now, the path he’s on leads to him changing.”

She wasn’t lying, I could see it in her mind. Another tearless sob broke from me.

“You have to make the decision, Edward.” Alice said.

I looked down at Beau. His silver eyes, still so piercing despite the pain that filled them, watched me. Bewildered, questioning, fearful. In an instant, I was back in that biology class that seemed like so long ago now.

I could remember it perfectly, of course. Beau walking down the aisle of the classroom toward me, his scent hitting me for the first time, all it replayed in my mind… but this time, when he turned to look at me, reflected in his eyes I didn’t see the monster I had before. This time I saw something else. I saw the man I had become, the man he had helped me become. The one who loved him, who protected him, who would do anything he asked. I saw the man he loved and trusted reflected in the silver pools of his eyes.

I knew then I had to try.

My fingers wrapped around his hand, locking it in place. Then I bent my head down and pressed my lips against his skin.

As I worked to pull the venom from his hand, he screamed and thrashed ever harder than before. Alice did her best to calm him down, but he was beyond that. Carlisle had finished bracing Beau’s leg and now held him still in his arms.

At first, the taste of the tracker’s venom was nearly overpowering but even then, I could taste Beau’s blood. The taste was beyond anything I had experienced before. It was better than I could have ever imagined, ever fantasized. I felt like a dying man, lost in the desert and finally finding water. As I pulled the venom from his body, as his warm and tantalizing blood filled my mouth, I began to fear that I would be unable to stop now.

I tried to convince myself in those moments between seconds that if Carlisle was strong enough to resist then I could as well. But it was not lost on me that Carlisle had perfected his willpower over hundreds of years to the point where human blood meant nothing to him. Furthermore, I wondered if even Carlisle could resist blood so potent and intoxicating.

I had run out of time to wrestle with this deep, insatiable thirst. There was no more venom in his blood. If I didn’t stop, I would kill him. I had to find the will to stop.

And somehow, deep inside of myself, clinging to the man Beau had helped me become—the man I wanted to be for him—I found that will. It didn’t matter how deliciously tempting his blood was. What mattered what saving Beau.

Slowly, his pained writhing seemed to calm. Then I tasted the morphine as it spread through his blood. I quickly released his hand, falling back away from him. I had to take long, deep breaths to calm myself as the magnitude of what I had somehow managed to accomplish washed over me.

“Edward,” Beau’s voice was soft, quiet.

“He’s right here, Beau.” Alice soothed.

“Stay, Edward, stay with me…”

“I will.” My voice was strained from the monumental effort of pulling myself away from his hand, and yet I felt somewhat triumphant.

Beau sighed, contended. His eyes were closed now, and his breathing was slow.

“Is it all out?” Carlisle asked, his fingers on Beau’s wrist, checking his pulse.

“His blood tastes clean,” my voice was quiet. “I can taste the morphine.”

“Beau?” Carlisle said.

“Mmmm?”

“Is the fire gone?”

“Yes,” Beau sighed. “Thank you, Edward.”

“I love you,” I answered.

“I know,” He breathed, like he was drifting off to sleep.

I couldn’t help but laugh with utter relief that finally—finally—it was all over and he was safe.

A moment—far too brief—passed over us.

“Beau?” Carlisle’s voice was worried now. His fingers ran along Beau’s wrist.

I realized half a second after he spoke what had troubled him: Beau’s heart was slowing. Slowing too much.

“Carlisle!” Alice’s voice was panicked. Suddenly, her visions had shifted and there was nothing. “I can’t see him anymore!”

“Beau? Beau, wake up!” I leaned in close to him, my hands gently holding his face.

“Alice, what did you see?” Carlisle’s panicked eyes darted to her.

“His future… it’s dark.” The sadness in her voice was overwhelming.

“No!” I howled in agony, “No, not now. Not now, Beau, please!” He didn’t respond, and I turned to Alice, desperate. “Alice, why? Why can’t you see?”

“A decision,” she replied softly, “a decision has to be made.”

It was a decision outside of my control, there was nothing I could do anymore. This decision was Beau’s, and his alone. For the first time in my immortal life, I felt completely weak and utterly helpless. I held Beau’s beautiful face in my hands. If I could still cry tears, I was sure they would have been flowing unendingly. His heart was barely beating, his breathing was impossibly slow and shallow.

“Beau, please, please stay with me.” I begged, “Please don’t leave me. I’m so sorry. I’m sorry for everything I put you through. I’m sorry that I was such a fool. Please, please stay with me. I love you, Beau. I love you more than anything in this world… Please.”

I looked around, desperate and lost. Carlisle had his fingers pressed against Beau’s wrist, monitoring his pulse with an increasingly worried expression. Alice stood close by, her hands clasped over her mouth, her eyes closed. There was nothing she could see but darkness.

I could just see Emmett hovering a in the doorway on the far side of the room with a sad, defeated expression on his face. Jasper stood further back, solemn and grave, and the light of a slowly growing fire danced beyond them.

How could this happen? How could I have come so close and still lost him? I closed my eyes and cradled Beau in my arms and I desperately searched my brain for anything I could do to save him. Was there anything? Or was I truly as useless as I was selfish? As powerless as I was foolish?

I played through every moment, every memory I had of him in my mind. Crystal clear as the day they happened. That first meeting, the accident in the school parking lot, the fight in the hospital, Port Angeles, every day in school, the meadow—our meadow. That first kiss…. Every moment, every choice, and every decision leading up to this moment.

“Please, Beau… Please…” I breathed, shakily. “I love you.”

Then suddenly, he inhaled a deep breath, and his heart began beating stronger.


	24. Promise

The harsh white lights of the hospital room buzzed softly above us. The bustle of the hospital staff just outside the tiny white room was an unending chorus of exhaustion, despair, resignation, grief, and frustration. But here, in this little room, everything I loved most was alive and recovering. The waiting was difficult though. Like a sort of purgatory.

I sat in the dingy plastic chair pulled up close to the bed, my head resting against the flat, lumpy pillow right next to his. Beau’s chest rose and fell as steadily as beeping of the heart monitor next to the bed. It was an exquisite sound. It had been my constant companion the last few days and I was grateful for it. Every beep of the monitor meant he was alive. Every beep meant he was still human.

Suddenly, he sighed. A gentle groan escaped his lips and his hands tensed and untensed. His eyes fluttered open, groggy and confused. His eyes turned slightly away from me, looking at the long vertical blinds on the wall beside him, then up to the bright ceiling lights, then down to the hospital bed. The strangest look passed over his face and I reveled in the familiar confusion of wondering what he could possibly be thinking.

He suddenly looked comically annoyed and lifted his hands towards his face.

“No, you don’t.” I chided, gently catching his hand.

“Edward?” He turned his head slightly, and the silver pools of his eyes widened and warmed as a smile spread across his beautiful face.

“Hi.”

“Hi,” I smiled back, sadly.

“What happened?”

Too much, all my worst nightmares, every single one of my greatest fears. “I was almost too late. I could have been too late,” the words came out in a tormented whisper.

“I’m sorry, Edward. I thought he had my mom.”

“He tricked us all.”

“I need to call Charlie and my mom,” He said, that familiar crease appearing between his eyebrows.

“Alice called them.” I was exceedingly grateful to Alice for making those phone calls, I didn’t think I had the strength of will to not break down and beg both Charlie and Beau’s mother for their forgiveness of my incredible failures. “Your mother is here—well, here in the hospital. She’s getting something to eat right now.”

“She’s here?” He tried to sit up, but his eyes grew unfocused with the effort and I gently pushed him back down onto the pillows.

“She’ll be back soon,” I promised. “And you need to stay still.”

“But what did you tell her?” He panicked, my soothing falling on deaf ears. “Why did you tell her I’m here?”

“You fell down two flight of stairs and through a window.” I paused, measuring his expression. “You have to admit, it could happen.”

He looked like he might argue with me, but he only sighed, then winced. He stared down at his body, hidden underneath the bed sheet.

“How bad am I?” He asked.

“You have a broken leg, four broken rips, some cracks in your skull, bruises covering every inch of your skin,” Recounting every injury felt like a sharp stab in the deepest part of my being. “And you’ve lost a lot of blood. They gave you a few transfusions. I didn’t like it—it made you smell all wrong for a while.”

“That must have been a nice change for you.”

“No, I like how _you_ smell.” And I was grateful he was back to normal now—or as close to it as he could be given the circumstances.

“How did you do it?” He asked quietly, and I knew what he meant at once.

“I’m not sure.” I reluctantly pulled away from his bewildered eyes, lifting his gauze-wrapped hand from the bed and holding it gently in my own, careful not to disrupt the wire connecting him to one of the monitors.

He watched me patiently.

I sighed, unable to return his gaze. “It was impossible to stop,” I whispered. “Impossible. But I did.” I finally looked up, managing half a smile. “I _must_ love you.”

“Don’t I taste as good as I smell?” He smiled in response, though it was marred by the slightest of winces.

“Even better—better than I’d imagined.”

“Damn right, I do.”

I laughed, loudly, fully unable to hold back my joy at seeing Beau— _my_ Beau—feeling like his usual self.

“Even then,” I said after a moment, “I thought I had still lost you. Despite everything.”

“Can’t get rid of me that easy,” He moved his shoulders in a halting way that perhaps was meant to be a shrug.

“Alice couldn’t see you.” My voice had fallen once again to a whisper, “I thought you were gone forever.”

“I hadn’t made the decision yet.” He said simply. I looked up at him, confused. “Giving up is easy, trying is harder. I had too much to try for.” He said softly.

“I’m glad.” Nothing could ease the guilt and sadness I felt over his pain, but this did make me happy.

He was silent for a moment, his face contemplative. Then his eyes widened minutely. He shuddered, and then winced.

“Beau, what’s wrong?” I asked, anxiously.

“What happened to James?”

“After I pulled him off you, Emmett and Jasper took care of him.” I still regretted that I could not have the satisfaction of finishing him off myself, but I was grateful to my brothers for their thorough job.

The crease reappeared. “I didn’t see Emmett and Jasper there.”

“They had to leave the room… there was a lot of blood. Emmett was devastated. He wanted to stay and help. I thought he might cry.” I remembered the look on Emmett’s face as Carlisle and I had rushed out of the studio to get to the hospital with some amusement.

“But you stayed.”

“Yes, I stayed.”

“And Alice, and Carlisle..,” he said in wonder.

“They love you, too, you know.”

His eyes drifted away for a moment, then suddenly his eyes widened and his voice became anxious. “James, he knew Alice! Did she see the tape?”

Ah. The tape. Alice and Carlisle had cautioned me I should not watch the tracker’s disgusting little video. Jasper had to exercise the most calming of influences to keep me steady, but I had watched it. “Yes.” My voice was dark with my hatred. Despite the atrocities the tracker had committed against Beau in the tape, it had helped Alice by shedding some light on her mysterious origins. She had been a patient in an asylum, cared for by an old vampire who changed her when she, like Beau, had become the target of James’s obsessive tracking. It has given Alice some clues as to where she might fight some information about her human life.

“She was always in the dark, that’s why she didn’t remember.” Beau said, full of concern.

“I know. She understands now.” My voice was more even, but I could tell my face was still twisted with fury.

He moved his hand towards me, but the IV kept it from reaching. He glanced down at it disdainfully.

“Ugh.” He winced.

“What is it?” I asked anxiously, worried that he had somehow hurt himself.

“Needles,” he explained, looking away from the one in his hand and focusing his eyes on the ceiling while taking deep breaths.

“Afraid of a needle,” I muttered to myself under my breath, shaking my head in disbelief. “Oh, a sadistic vampire, intent on torturing him to death, sure, no problem, he runs off to meet him. An _IV_ , on the other hand…”

He rolled his eyes.

“Why are _you_ here?” He asked suddenly.

I stared at him, confused for a moment. Then the pain hit me. Of course. Why would he want me here after I put him through this? “Do you want me to leave?”

“No!” He protested, “No, of course not, you beautiful idiot. No, I meant, why does my mother think you’re here? I need to have my story straight before she gets back.”

“Oh,” I said, relief washing over me. “I came to Phoenix to talk to you, to convince you to come back to Forks.” I recited the story in my most sincere voice. “You agreed to see me, and you drove out to the hotel where I was staying with Carlisle and Alice—of course I was there with parental supervision,” I added, “but you tripped on the stairs on the way to my room and… well, you know the rest. You don’t need to remember any details, though; you have a good excuse to be a little muddled about the finer points.” I sighed, then realized something and raised my eyebrow at him. “Did you just call me an idiot?”

“Give me a break; I’m broken in like a hundred places and on pain medication.” He snickered, “Besides, I called you a _beautiful_ idiot.”

I smirked in response to his playfulness.

“There are a few flaws with your story, though.” He continued, “Like no broken windows.”

“Not really,” I replied. “Alice had a little bit too much fun fabricating evidence. It’s all been taken care of very convincingly,” In fact Alice had gone so overboard I added, “you could probably sue the hotel if you wanted to.” I watched his face relax. “You have nothing to worry about,” I promised him, stroking his cheek as lightly as I could. “You’re only job now is to heal.”

“I think I can manage that,” he sighed.

I leaned in slowly and pressed my lips as gently as I could to his, he sighed happily, then winced suddenly. I pulled back quickly, anxious at what new damage I might have caused.

“It seems I’m going to have to be more careful with you than usual.” I frowned at that daunting prospect.

“I was not finished kissing you,” He narrowed his eyes. “Don’t make me come over there. Get back here.”

“Yes, sir.” I grinned and happily pressed my lips once again to his.

“Do you think he’ll wake up anytime soon?” The voice of Beau’s mother came from the hallway.

I pulled away from Beau. “I think I hear your mother,” I said, grinning again.

“Oh god, don’t leave me now.” His eyes were wide, full of terror.

“I won’t,” I promised, then smiled with an amusing idea. “I’ll take a nap.”

He watched me with a bewildered, slightly panicked expression as I moved from the plastic chair by his side to the garish faux-leather recliner at the foot of his bed, leaning it all the way back, and closing my eyes in a show of sleep.

“Don’t forget to breathe,” he whispered sarcastically. I obliged with a deep, showy breath, keeping my eyes closed.

Beau’s mother was just outside the door, speaking to a nurse about his progress. Her voice held all the exhaustion and worry of the long days she had spent in the hospital.

I heard the door open a crack.

“Mom!” Beau’s whispered voice was full of affection and relief.

“Oh, Beau,” his mother’s voice flew across the room to his side, “I’m so happy you’re awake, hon.” _He’s still here? My goodness._ “He never leaves, does he?” She whispered.

“Mom, I’m so glad to see you!”

There was a brief moment of silence. I could hear his mother sniffle.

“Beau, I was so upset.”

“I’m sorry, Mom. But everything’s fine now, it’s okay,” He comforted her. I already was beginning to understand their dynamic a little better. Until now, I had only known what Beau had told me of his mother.

“I’m just glad to finally see your eyes open.” I could hear the bed creak slightly, I guessed she was sitting next to him now.

“How long have I been out?”

“It’s Friday, hon, you’ve been out for a while.”

“Friday?” He sounded shocked, but uncertain at the same time.

“They had to keep you sedated for a while, honey—you’ve got a lot of injuries.”

“I know. I feel them.” He said, bleakly, and I felt a fresh stab of guilt.

“You’re lucky Dr. Cullen was there. He’s such a nice man… very young, though. And he looks more like a model than a doctor…” _Reminds me of someone in the movies a little… Gosh, who am I thinking of?_

“You met Carlisle?”

“And Edward’s sister, Alice. She’s a lovely girl.” _So pretty, too. Just darling!_

“She is,” Beau agreed.

In her mind, I could see her eyes move from Beau to over her shoulder towards me in the chair. “You didn’t tell me you had such good friends in Forks.” She said. _Or such polite, beautiful ones!_

The bed creaked and Beau moaned in pain.

“What hurts?” his mother demanded, turning back to him just as I opened my eyes to see for myself.

“It’s fine,” He assured us both. “I just have to remember not to move.” I fell back into my false slumber.

“Where’s Phil?” Beau asked suddenly.

“Florida—Oh, Beau! You’ll never guess! Just when we were about to leave, the best news!”

“Phil got signed?” He guessed.

“Yes! How did you guess! The Suns, can you believe it?”

“That’s great, Mom,” I could hear the smile in Beau’s voice.

“And you’ll like Jacksonville so much,” She began to gush. “I was a little bit worried when Phil started talking about Akron, what with the snow and everything, because you know how I hate the cold, but now Jacksonville! It’s always sunny, and the humidity really isn’t _that_ bad. We found the cutest house, yellow, with white trim, and a porch just like in an old movie, and this huge oak tree, it’s just a few minutes from the ocean, and you’ll have your own bathroom—”

“Wait, Mom!” Beau interrupted. I still had my eyes closed, but I could feel the tension in my body. This was the last thing I wanted, but of course, it was the best thing for him. How could I fight it?

Beau continued, “What are you talking about? I’m not going to Florida. I live in Forks.”

The smallest spark of hope ignited deep within me.

“But you don’t have to anymore, silly,” his mother laughed. “Phil will be able to be around so much more now… we’ve talked about it a lot, and what I’m going to do is trade off on the away games, half the time with you, half the time with him.”

I felt a wrenching feeling of despair fill me.

“Mom.” Beau began, hesitantly. “I _want_ to live in Forks. I realized it when I was back here in Phoenix. I missed it. I’m already settled in at school, and I have a couple of friends—”

 _Ohh, I see…_ His mother’s eyes had gone back to me in the chair.

Beau continued, “And Charlie needs me. He’s just all alone up there, and he can’t cook _at all_.”

“You want to stay in Forks?” From her tone, it was clear the idea was completely inconceivable to her. _Oh, I bet that handsome boy has something to do with it_. “Why?” Her tone was vaguely suspicious.

“I told you—school, Charlie—ouch!”

My eyes snapped open, he was wincing and his mother was placing a gentle hand on his forehead.

“Beau, honey, you hate Forks,” she said gently.

“It’s not so bad.”

“You don’t have to keep trying to like it.” She offered.

“Giving up is easy, trying is harder.” He repeated his earlier words to her.

“But trying makes all the difference.” She finished the little mantra, a smile in her voice.

Her head tilted to the side, I closed my eyes again just as she slowly turned to glance back at me. “Is it this boy?” She whispered.

Beau didn’t answer right away, then he dropped his voice to a whisper. “He’s part of it,” he admitted. “So, have you had a chance to talk to Edward?”

“Yes.” She hesitated. I quickly ran through the conversations in my mind, assuring myself I had been a perfect gentleman. “And I want to talk to you about that.” She continued.

“What about?”

“I think that boy is in love with you,” she accused in a low voice.

Well, perhaps I’m not as subtle or secretive as I’d like to believe I am.

“I think so, too,” Beau confided to her, matching her whispered tones.

 _Ah-ha! I knew it!_ “And how do you feel about him?” She asked, trying with little success to conceal the brimming curiosity in her voice.

He sighed, “I’m pretty crazy about him, I guess.”

“Well, he _seems_ very nice, and, my goodness, he’s incredibly good-looking, but you’re so young Beau…” Her voice was unsure, and her mind was instantly thinking of her own past experiences with Charlie…

“Don’t worry, Mom.” Beau soothed, “It’s just a crush.”

“Oh, I’m sure,” Her playful tone said she knew better. _Gosh, Phil should be calling soon…_

“Do you need to go?”

“Phil’s supposed to call in a little while… he’s been so worried about you…”

“No problem, Mom. I won’t be alone.”

“I’ll be back soon. I’ve been sleeping here.” She said.

“Oh, Mom, you don’t have to do that! You can sleep at home—I’ll never notice.” That was true. He’d been lost to the world the last few days.

“I was too nervous,” she admitted sheepishly. “There’s been some crime in the neighborhood, and I don’t like being there alone.”

“Crime?” Beau’s voice was alarmed.

“Someone broke into that dance studio around the corner from the house and burned it to the ground—there’s nothing left at all! And they left a stolen car right out front. Do you remember when I used to teach dance there, honey?”

“I remember.” He made a small noise of pain again.

 _He can’t do anything without hurting…_ “I can stay, baby, if you need me.”

“No, Mom, I’ll be fine. Edward will be with me.”

 _That’s what I’m afraid of…_ “I’ll be back tonight.” She said, and I could tell from the direction of her voice she said it looking at me.

“I love you, Mom.”

“I love you, too, Beau. Please be careful when you walk, honey, I don’t want to lose you.”

I couldn’t keep a grin from spreading across my face.

The door opened then as a very tired nurse ambled into the room, I opened my eyes only slightly to see the nurse check the various tubes and wires Beau was connected to. His mother leaned forward and kissed his forehead, patted his gauze-wrapped hand, and left.

The nurse continued with her business. “How are you feeling, dear?”

“I’m fine,” Beau assured her.

“I’ll tell your RN that you’re awake. She’ll be in to see you in a minute.”

As soon as she closed the door, I was by Beau’s side.

“You stole a car?” He raised his eyebrows.

I smiled without shame. “It was a good car, very fast.”

“Edward!” He scolded. I only smiled. He sighed, “how was your nap?”

“Interesting.” I narrowed my eyes at him.

“What?”

I couldn’t meet his eyes as I spoke. “I’m surprised. I thought Florida… and your mother… well, I thought that’s what you would want. To go someplace where I can’t hurt you anymore.”

“Are you tired of having to save me all the time?” He asked.

His question surprised me. How could he think that? I supposed I should be pleased that there was no brain damage and he still thought the same way as before, even if it was completely backwards.

“No, Beau, of course not.” I assured him. “I would do anything to keep you safe. I would save you a hundred times over.”

“Then why would I go to Florida?”

“Because then…” I could barely force the words from me, they pained me so much, “then I couldn’t hurt you anymore. My very presence is a danger to you, Beau, every second I’m around you. I’m not worthy of your love, I’ll get you killed and—”

“Shhh,” he cut me off, his voice soft and comforting. “There’s a difference between the danger you put me in and the danger around me. Don’t you see that?”

“No. It’s all my fault.”

“You really are a beautiful idiot.” He sighed, “Do you want me to go away?”

“No!” It was the last thing I wanted. I could hardly bear the thought. “No, I don’t want to be without you Beau, of course not. But,” My eyes dropped again, “I’m the one putting you in danger… I’m the reason you’re here.”

“Yes, you are the reason. The reason I’m here— _alive_.”

“Barely. Covered in gauze and plaster and hardly able to move.”

“But I’m still here.” He insisted.

“I thought I lost you, Beau.” I could barely speak above a whisper as I recalled the horrible memories. “Seeing you there on the floor… crumpled and broken. Thinking I was too late, hearing you scream in pain—all those unbearable memories that I’ll carry with me for the rest of eternity. And the worst feeling… fearing that I couldn’t stop. I thought after all that, I would be the one to kill you myself.”

“But you didn’t”

“I could have. So easily.”

“But, again, you didn’t.” He sighed. “I’m here, Edward. I chose you. Maybe that makes me an idiot, but that’s what I want. _You_ are what I want.”

“Even if I’m so terrible for you? Even if I put you in—”

“If you say you put me in danger one more time I’m going to hit you in the head with my plaster cast.”

I smiled a little, fully believing that he would somehow manage to do just that and he smiled back at me.

“I don’t seem to be strong enough to stay away from you.” I told him honestly.

“For once, I’m glad you’re not strong enough for something.” He teased gently.

My phone began to buzz in my pocket, I quickly glanced at the caller ID and put the phone to my ear in an instant.

“Hello?” I answered, confused as to why Emmett was calling me.

“Hey, bro, is Beau doing okay?” Emmett’s voice was serious—as much as it could be for him, at least.

I sighed. “Yes, he’s fine—”

“Alice said he woke up?”

“Yes…”

“Let me talk to him!” He demanded.

“Oh fine, here.” I moved the phone to Beau’s ear. “For you,” I sighed again.

“Hello?” Beau asked in an adorably cautious way.

“Hey, big guy!” Emmett’s voice boomed from the phone.

“Emmett! Hi!” Beau chuckled, “How are you?”

“How am I? How are you?” Emmett erupted in earsplitting laughter. I made a note that I would have to teach him how to talk to Beau without damaging his hearing. “You’re the one that fell through a window.” Emmett finished, teasing.

“Well, I’ve had better days.” Beau sighed.

That was quite the understatement.

“Beau,” Emmett’s voice was mildly gentler now, “I’m sorry I couldn’t stay. It was just…”

“I know, Emmett, thank you for trying.” Beau’s unfailing kindness never ceased to both impress and amaze me.

“Jasper says hey, too! He’s glad you’re awake!”

“Tell him I’m sorry for ditching him at the airport.” Beau said sincerely.

“He forgives you,” Emmett’s wide grin was evident in his voice. “Hey, wait, here’s someone else who wants to talk to you.”

There a faint sound of movement, and Emmett’s voice grew quiet as though he had pulled the phone away from his face. “Roy! Come on, babe!” he said. I raised an eyebrow, unsure if I wanted Royal to say anything to Beau. But before I had a chance to decide, it sounded as if someone grabbed the phone and huffed loudly.

“Hello, Beau.” Royal’s obnoxiously annoyed voice came over the phone. I gritted my teeth. “I’m glad you’re not dead.” Royal continued in a tone that said the exact reverse.

“Thanks…” Beau replied tentatively, “Hey, Royal?”

Silence.

“Thank you for watching over Charlie. I really appreciate it.”

There was another moment of silence, and just before I was about to take the phone back and start yelling, Royal answered, “You’re welcome, Beau.”

Another sound of shuffling and Emmett’s voice began booming from the phone again. “See? Everyone’s happy now!”

“Thanks, Emmett.” Beau chuckled.

“Hey, I’ll let you get back to Edward. Get better, big guy!”

“Bye, Emmett.”

I took the phone back and slid it into my pocket.

“See? They all love you.” I said. And it was true, and it was a comfort to me that my family cared about Beau so much. Though it didn’t compare to my feelings towards him, they were still strong.

“I’m glad,” he smiled.

I was so enraptured by the sweet smile that I barely noticed the nurse bustle into the room.

_The poor thing is broken every which way, I do hope this young man isn’t wearing him out too much._

I sat perfectly still as she looked Beau over.

“Time for more pain meds, sweetheart?” she asked kindly, tapping the IV feed.

“No, no,” he mumbled. “I’m fine for now.”

 _It won’t do to put it off…_ No need to be brave, dear. It’s better if you rest.”

“Maybe in a bit?” Beau offered.

“Okay,” she sighed. “Hit the call button when you’re ready.” She turned and left the room without another word.

Beau was silent for a moment, his eyebrows pulled together, and then he looked up at me with a contemplative look in his eyes.

“Edward, why did you stop me from changing?”

“What?” The question threw me completely. I was completely confused on its meaning.

“Why didn’t you let the venom spread? By now I would be just like you.”

My body went completely stone and my jaw locked. How could he possibly know about that? I was careful not to tell him. He was incredibly intuitive, so perhaps he had deduced it for himself? No, I knew. Alice must have told him—and against my explicit instructions!

He watched my reaction for a moment and his brows furrowed further.

“Mind your temper.” He warned me.

I took a deep breath for show and he sighed.

“I’m just asking, because since you seem so afraid of hurting me or getting me killed, wouldn’t it have been easier to let me change? Let me become like you? Able to defend myself. Maybe even I would have the chance to save you for a change.”

It was sound logic. I couldn’t argue against that. I folded my arms along the side of his bed and rested my chin upon them. I worked to control my temper, though I would still be having a serious conversation with Alice when I next saw her.

“You _have_ saved me,” was all I could manage to say and it was, after all, incredibly true. Had he not saved me from my monotonous existence? Had he not saved me from being a complete monster? Hadn’t his love and kindness taught me to be better?

His hand found my arm and squeezed it gently, “Edward…”

“You don’t know what you’re asking.” I said softly, staring intently at the woven thread on the edge of his pillowcase. “I’ve had nearly a century to think about this, and I’m still not sure.”

“Do you wish that Carlisle hadn’t saved you?”

“No, I don’t wish that.” I felt that was largely true. I tried to think of a way to explain it better to him. “But my life was over. I wasn’t giving anything up.”

“I see,” his voice was thoughtful.

“I can’t do it, Beau. I won’t do that to you.”

“I’m not asking you to.”

My eyes flashed to his. I hadn’t expected that. “What?”

“I’m not asking you to change me, I’m just asking why you didn’t let me change?”

It was a strange feeling; relief mingled with sadness. Relief that he wasn’t asking for this curse, but sadness because I knew that somewhere, sometime, it was a possibility for him. A course he could follow.

“Alice already saw it, didn’t she?” He guessed, as intuitive as ever. “That’s why the things she says upset you. She knows I’m going to be like you… someday.”

“She’s wrong.” I argued. “She also saw you dead, but that didn’t happen, either.”

“But this is the course I’m on, isn’t it?” He pushed, “The decision has been made. It’s just a matter of following that course.”

I couldn’t argue with the truth, I could only gaze into his deep silver eyes. Alice’s visions seemed fairly certain now. The timing was unclear, but the end result was always the same.

“I’m not asking you to change me tomorrow, or even in three days.” He soothed, “I just need to know where everything stands. I made this decision, and if my vampire boyfriend’s vampire sister can see where that decision leads me then I’d just like to be prepared.”

“Am I worth it?” I didn’t need him to answer, I already knew I wasn’t.

“I don’t think I would have put myself through all this if I didn’t think you were.”

His unfailing kindness again. “You have a lot of pain medication in your system right now; you’re not in a clear state of mind.” I scowled.

“Mind your temper, and don’t argue. It’s not good for me.” He sniffed lightly.

I smirked. “Yes, sir.”

“Edward?”

“Yes, Beau?”

“Do you truly love me?”

What a question! How could I not love him for how wonderful and perfect he was? “Of course, more than anything.”

“My mom once told me that sometimes you only share a moment with someone, but sometimes you share forever with them. I think we have a shot at forever.”

“You do?” I continued to stare deeply into the depths of his eyes, wishing once again I could hear the thoughts behind them and understand what he saw in a monster like myself that would make him so sure. “Do you really think I’m worth forever?”

“I really do,” he took a deep breath, wincing slightly, “do you think I’m worth forever?”

That was easy. “You’re worth more than anything in this world.”

“Then do you promise? Not to give up? Promise not to leave?”

I wanted to answer immediately, but how could I be that selfish? How could I rob him of a normal human life? The truth was I was too weak to refuse him this, and I was too selfish to not want it desperately. “I promise, Beau.” I leaned in and kissed him on his forehead.

He smiled contentedly.

“How are you feeling?” I asked, eyeing the button to call the nurse. By my calculations, the pain medication they’d previously administered would be wearing off by now.

“A little sore, to be honest.”

“Do you want to go back to sleep?”

“No, but maybe I should.”

I reached for the button.

“Yes?” A bored voice squawked through the speaker on the wall.

“I think we’re ready for more pain medication,” I said.

“I’ll send in the nurse.” The voice replied.

“Ugh,” Beau sighed. “Why does it have to hurt so much.”

“I’m sorry, Beau.” I wished I could fix everything, I never wanted him to feel pain again.

“It’s fine, I just don’t want to close my eyes.”

I smiled and took his warm face between my hands. “I told you I’m not going anywhere. Don’t be afraid. I promise you, as long as it makes you happy, I’ll be here.”

He smiled back. “I’m pretty sure that’ll be forever.”

“Oh, you’ll get over it—” I teased, “it’s just a crush.”

“Oh, shut up.”

“That’s the beautiful thing about being human,” I said softly. “Things change.”

His eyes narrowed. “Don’t hold your breath.”

I was laughing when the nurse came in, brandishing a syringe.

 _I knew he was riling him up!_ “Excuse me,” She said to me brusquely.

I moved out of her way and crossed to the end of the small room, leaning against the wall. I folded my arms and waited for her to finish.

“Here you go, dear.” The nurse smiled at Beau as she injected the medication into his IV line. “You’ll feel better now.”

“Thanks,” he mumbled. Almost immediately his eyes began to flutter and drop.

“That ought to do it,” The nurse muttered.

She glanced back at me one more time—a scolding expression on her face—then she left. By the time the door closed I was back by Beau’s side, my finger brushing along his cheek.

“Stay.” He mumbled, slurring the word.

“I will,” I promised. “Like I said, as long as it makes you happy… as long as it’s what’s best for you.”

His head wobbled slightly. “’S not the same thing,” he mumbled.

I laughed at his adorable sleepy state. “Don’t worry about that now, Beau. You can argue with me when you wake up.”

Half his mouth turned up in a smile. “’Kay.”

I leaned in, my lips at his ear.

“I love you,” I whispered.

“Me, too.”

“I know,” I laughed quietly.

His head turned slightly, his lips turning into an attractive, soft pout. I gently touched my lips to his.

“Thanks,” he sighed.

“Anytime.”

I placed my hand on his, and he squeezed it gently and sighed, happily.

He gently slid into a deep slumber and I would stay right there by his side. For as long as he loved me, as long as he wanted me, and for as long as it was what was best for him. I would stay, and I would be eternally content.


	25. Epilogue: An Occasion

I carefully helped Beau into my car, being especially mindful of the cumbersome walking cast on his leg. I did my best to ignore the unhappy pout on his face.

Once I was sure he was settled, I got in the driver’s seat and headed back out the long narrow drive away from my family’s house.

“So are you ever going to tell me what’s going on?” He asked, looking especially suspicious and wary.

“I’m shocked you haven’t figured it out yet.” I ginned at him, and his breath caught in his throat.

“I did mention that you looked very nice, didn’t I?” He asked.

“Yes.” I grinned again. Of course, I had Alice to thank. She had special ordered the black tuxedo from France and it was quite fine. She wouldn’t let me go out in anything less on this evening.

But my outfit was nothing when compared to Beau’s. Alice had chosen a custom tuxedo in the exact shade of dark blue that I loved best on him. It was expertly tailored in all the right places, perfectly accentuating every line of his lean body.

“I’m not coming over anymore if Alice is going to treat me like her own personal Ken doll when I do,” He griped. Glancing at his reflection in the passenger side mirror.

He looked wonderful, though. Alice had smoothed his brown curls back on his head which helped to draw attention to the silver pools of his eyes.

I was distracted from my admiring by my phone ringing in my pocket. I pulled it out from the inside pocket of my jacket and glanced at the caller ID before answering.

“Hello, Charlie,” I said warily.

“Charlie?” Beau frowned.

Charlie had been rather strict since Beau’s return to Forks, and he had every right to be. He had been of two minds regarding the incident in Phoenix. Toward Carlisle he had been exceedingly grateful. However, he was quite convinced that I was entirely at fault for Beau’s accident and since he was, of course, completely correct I would not argue. As a result, Beau now had to follow new rules such as curfews and pre-approved visiting hours.

“Hello, Edward,” Charlie’s voice was gruff. “You mind explaining to me why Tyler Crowley is standing at my door in a suit expecting to take my boy out tonight?”

My eyes widened in disbelief, and then I couldn’t suppress the grin spreading across my face.

“You’re kidding!” I laughed.

“What is it?” Beau asked.

“Why don’t you let me talk to him?” I suggested to Charlie, thoroughly pleased by this turn of events. I waited for a few seconds.

“Uh, hello?” Tyler’s confused voice came over the phone.

“Hello, Tyler, this is Edward Cullen.” I kept my voice very friendly, but Beau was looking at me with a confused and slightly exasperated expression. Then his eyes widened, and he looked down at his tuxedo in horror.

“Oh, um, hey,” Tyler’s voice was still confused.

“I’m sorry if there’s been some kind of miscommunication, but Beau is unavailable tonight.” I couldn’t help but become more protective as I continued. “To be perfectly honest, he’ll be unavailable every night, as far as anyone beside myself is concerned. No offense. And I’m sorry about your evening.” I hung up the phone and deposited it back in my pocket, unable to contain the smirk on my face.

I could see Beau’s ivory face turn crimson out of the corner of my eye.

I looked at him in surprise. “Was that last part a bit too much? I didn’t mean to offend you.”

“You’re taking me to _the prom_!” His voice was filled with panic.

I was thrown by his reaction. I’d expected some protest, but not full-blown panic. Beyond that, I was puzzled as to how he didn’t realize sooner. Surely it was obvious?

“I’m sorry, Beau, please don’t be angry.”

His eyes flashed to the window. “Why are you doing this to me?” He demanded.

I gestured to our tuxedos. “Honestly, Beau, what did you think we were doing?”

“You never tend to do things casually, for all I knew we were getting milkshakes and you thought we should dress up.” He glared back at me.

“Touché.” I smirked.

“Oh god, this is awful.” He sighed.

Now I was frustrated. “Why are you so upset?” I demanded.

“Because I didn’t want to go to prom!”

“Beau.” I turned my eyes to him.

“What?” He muttered.

“Humor me,” I insisted.

My eyes held his gaze for a moment, and the crease between his brows slowly relaxed.

“Fine,” he glared. “I’ll go. But you’ll see. I’m way overdue for some bad luck. I’ll probably break my other leg! This fancy shoe doesn’t have any traction! Look at it!” He held out his uninjured leg, as evidence I guessed.

“Hmmm.” My eyes followed the line of his leg, up his torso, to his radiant face then back down. He looked incredible. “Remind me to thank Alice for dressing you up so nicely tonight. I am quite fond of that color on you.”

“Alice is going to be there?” He seemed comforted by that.

“With Jasper, and Emmett… and Royal,” I admitted.

Any progress I had made with calming him seemed to vanish. The crease reappeared between his brows and he looked troubled.

“Is Charlie in on this?” He asked, suspicion in his voice.

“Of course.” I grinned, then chuckled. “Apparently Tyler wasn’t, though.”

He rolled his eyes.

We arrived at the school; Royal’s ostentatious red BMW was practically an eyesore in the parking lot. The clouds were thin today, a few streaks of sunlight escaping through far away in the west.

I exited the car and walked to open his door. He set his jaw as I held out my hand for him.

At first, he stayed in place, with a resolute expression, and his arms folded stubbornly across his chest.

I sighed. “When someone wants to kill you, you’re as brave as a lion—and then when someone mentions dancing…” I shook my head at the ludicrous nature of the situation.

He gulped comically. I suppose I hadn’t mentioned dancing, yet.

“Beau, I won’t let anything hurt you—not even yourself. I won’t let go of you once, I promise.”

He mulled this over for a short moment, and his face relaxed suddenly. He even seemed pleased with the prospect.

“There, now,” I said gently, “it won’t be so bad.” I leaned down and wrapped one arm around his waist, he took my free hand and allowed me to lift him from the car.

I kept my arm tightly around him as we slowly made our way toward the school. He gripped onto me like I was the only thing keeping him upright.

The prom was being held in the school’s gym. Fairly common for smaller schools such as this one. When we arrived inside, Beau let out an involuntary giggle as he appraised the humorously cliched decorations.

“This looks like a horror movie waiting to happen,” he snickered.

“Well,” I muttered as we slowly approached the ticket table, “There are _more_ than enough vampires present.”

His eyes trailed off to the dance floor where my siblings were making quite the spectacle of themselves. All the students had pressed themselves back, leaving a wide gap in the center of the floor where Alice and Jasper were spinning around in wide circles.

Emmett stood nearby grinning widely at the students’ dumbfounded reactions to Alice and Jasper. He caught our scent and waved when he spotted us. Royal stood next to him, reveling in his own beauty and the countless looks of admiration but otherwise feeling rather bored by the whole ordeal.

“Do you think if I threw myself into the sound system it would end the prom?” Beau whispered.

I laughed, though I wasn’t entirely sure he was joking, “Anything to get out of dancing.”

“Anything.”

I bought our tickets, then turned him toward the dance floor. He visibly cringed against my arm and dragged his feet. Like a hangman being walked to the gallows.

“I’ve got all night,” I smiled.

“Okay, can I be honest a second?” He sighed, “I’m a terrible dancer, sure—I’m clumsy as hell—but… I’ve never danced with a _boy_.” His pulse quickened minutely. “And this is _Forks_ , after all. Maybe I can be affectionate with you at school when no one is looking… but _dancing_ at _prom_? In front of everyone?”

I hadn’t expected that reasoning to be behind his reluctance, “Is that what you’ve been worried about?”

“A bit, yes.” he admitted.

I considered this for a moment. It was a valid fear, and I couldn’t be upset at him for it. Certainly we were a rather unorthodox coupling—for many reasons—and Beau didn’t enjoy being the center of attention. He preferred a low-profile.

“We don’t have to dance if you don’t want to.” I conceded.

He sighed and looked over my shoulder back at the dance floor. I watched his apprehensive face trying to think of how I could possibly improve the evening for him.

_Oh my god!_

_So it’s totally true!_

_Whoa, no way…_

_Oh, that’s so hot…_

The rush of surprised thoughts and hushed voices from the dance floor made me spin around. There, in the middle of the dance floor right alongside Alice and Jasper were Royal and Emmett, dancing together. I was rather surprised myself. Royal was exceedingly vain, but he was surprisingly discreet when it came to being affectionate with Emmett in public. Given Royal’s history, it never surprised me much.

 _He’s sweet, Edward._ Royal was thinking _, Too sweet. I hate that, but I don’t want him feeling… Ugh, forget it. Just dance with him already before I get even more annoyed than I already am._

Royal locked eyes with Beau from the dance floor. _Well? You’ve got no excuse now._

I smirked as I watched this uniquely Royal peace offering unfold. I turned back to Beau, “That’s Royal’s way of saying he’s glad you’re here.”

“Oh, fine.” Beau huffed. He let me lead him out to join my siblings on the dance floor. He watched them spin by in terror.

“Edward.” His voice was a dry, barely audible whisper. “I _honestly_ can’t dance.” His heart was racing now.

“Don’t worry, love,” I whispered back. “I _can_.” I put his arms around my neck and lifted him to slide my feet under his.

 _Edward! Not the Aubercy Made-to-Order shoes! They’ll scuff!_ Alice mentally scolded me.

I ignored her as I whirled Beau into the dance. I grinned down at him as he slowly began to smile, then laugh as we waltzed.

“I bet I look like a fool,” He said between laughter.

“Quite the opposite,” I murmured, pulling him closer to me.

 _Look at that! You made the kid dance._ Emmett was thoroughly amused by the sight.

 _He’s radiating happiness_ , Jasper was thinking.

Alice caught Beau’s eye and smiled in encouragement—he smiled back. I was pleased to see that he seemed to be enjoying himself.

“Okay, this isn’t half bad.” He admitted.

_Damn, this is gonna be so bad… Wow, Beau looks great. But I can’t believe Billy is making me do this._

I recognized the mind I was hearing over by the doors. Jacob Black. Son of Billy Black, who apparently had a message for Beau that he had forced his poor, hapless son to deliver with some sort of contrived bribe.

My eyes shot to the door as I glared at the boy who was reluctantly skulking into the gym. I was having a hard time controlling my anger. Billy Black should know this was crossing a line.

“What is it?” Beau asked, following the line of my gaze toward the doors. At first he seemed genuinely surprised to see the Black boy, then he looked sympathetically at the clearly uncomfortable expression he wore in his white button up shirt and black tie as crossed the floor toward us.

 _Man, this sucks. I feel so bad. I’ve been wanting to talk to Beau again but not like this..._ The boy was at least ashamed of his message. He locked eyes with Beau. _Damn, Beau looks so hot…_

A quiet snarl escaped my lips.

“Be _have_!” Beau hissed.

“He wants to chat with you.”I found I wasn’t able to control the scathing tone of my voice.

The boy had reached us then. His slouching posture and his embarrassed, apologetic posture were at least some comfort.

 _Alright, here goes._ “Hey, Beau, I was hoping you would be here.” His voice conveyed the exact opposite, but his smile for Beau was overly friendly in my opinion.

“Hi, Jake.” Beau smiled back. I felt a twinge of jealousy. Beau seemed pleased to see the boy. “What’s up?”

“Can I cut in?” he asked tentatively, glancing at me for the first time. I noted that he was taller than the last time I’d seen him at Beau’s house. He was eye level with me now.

I managed to keep my expression composed, blank even—solely for Beau’s benefit. He considered this boy a friend, so I should be courteous. I didn’t trust my words to remain as kind, so instead of answering I simply released my hold on Beau and took a step back.

“Thanks,” Jacob said.

I nodded, looking at Beau before reluctantly turning to walk away.

I leaned against the back wall of the gym and crossed my arms. I was already angry with this boy for his message, but then he made me break my promise to not let go of Beau all evening! I watched them intently.

I had to take a deep breath to calm myself when Jacob put his hands on Beau’s waist and another when Beau put his hands on the boy’s shoulders and they began dancing.

It wasn’t really dancing, per se, it was more swaying in place.

“Wow, Jake, how tall are you now?” Beau asked.

“Six-two.” He said with an air of childish pride.

“So, how did you end up here tonight?” Beau asked, genuine curiosity in his voice.

“Can you believe my dad paid me twenty bucks to crash your prom?” The boy admitted.

“Yes, I can,” Beau muttered. “Well, I hope you’re enjoying yourself, at least. Seen anything you like?” He teased, nodding toward a group of students lined up against the opposite wall.

“Yeah, Jacob sighed. “But he’s taken.” _Oh, man… I can’t believe I said that out loud._

They locked eyes for a minute, then looked away in embarrassment.

This child was quickly supplanting Mike Newton as my least favorite of Beau’s human friends.

 _I’m just going to go for it…_ “You look really handsome, by the way,” the boy added shyly. “Your eyes are really beautiful.”

“Um, thanks.” Beau blushed. “You’re not looking too bad yourself.”

I missed the rest of what Beau said, I felt such a strong surge of jealousy I saw red for a brief moment. When I could focus again they were laughing in a friendly way.

“So, why did Billy pay you to come here?” Beau was asking softly.

The boy was uncomfortable now. He didn’t want to say it. I didn’t want him to say it, either.

 _Man, I hate this…_ “He said it was a ‘safe’ place to talk to you. I swear the old man is losing his mind.”

Jacob laughed, Beau joined in weakly.

“Anyway, he said that if I told you something he would get me that master cylinder I need,” the boy confessed with an embarrassed grin.

“Tell me, then. I want you to get your car finished so maybe you can come visit me once in a while.” Beau grinned back. I felt a new surge of jealousy course through my body. Beau’s eyes glanced over to me, but I kept my expression passive. Even then, I saw something in his eyes when he caught my gaze. I was obviously unable to hide my emotions from him like I used to be able to.

When Beau returned his eyes to the boy, Jacob turned his head away, ashamed. “Don’t get mad, okay?”

“I could never be mad at you, Jacob,” Beau assured him. “I won’t even be mad at Billy. Just say what you have to.”

“Well—” _God, okay, here we go._ “This is so stupid, I’m sorry, Beau—he wants you to break up with your boyfriend. He asked me to tell you ‘please.’” He shook his head in disgust which I suppose was a small comfort. I was still furious, though.

 “He’s still superstitious, eh?”

I couldn’t believe Billy Black was so brazen as to openly interfere like this.

“Yeah. He was… kind of over the top when you got hurt down in Phoenix. He didn’t believe…” Jacob trailed off self-consciously.

“I fell.” Beau insisted.

“I know that,” Jacob said quickly.

“He thinks Edward had something to do with me getting hurt.” Beau wasn’t asking, he was stating. His voice was tinged with frustration.

Jacob wouldn’t look Beau in the eyes. They weren’t swaying to the music anymore, just standing in place in the middle of the dance floor. I couldn’t understand why the boy didn’t take his hands off Beau’s waist, or why Beau didn’t untwine his from around the boy’s neck.

“Look, Jacob, I know Billy won’t believe this, but just so you know Edward really did save my life. If it weren’t for Edward and his father, I’d be dead.”

Jacob returned his eyes to Beau as he was speaking, responding to the earnestness in his voice. “I know,” he claimed. _The way he talks about that Cullen guy… Beau’s really serious about him. Damn._

“Hey, I’m sorry you had to come do this, Jake,” Beau apologized. “At any rate, you get your parts, right?”

“Yeah,” he muttered. Clearly withholding some key part of the message. _I don’t want to say this, I really don’t want to say this._

“There’s more?” Beau deduced.

“Forget it,” he mumbled, “I’ll get a job and save the money myself.”

“Nope! Just spit it out! You’re getting that damn cylinder thing.”

“It’s so bad.” In the boy’s defense, from what I could read in his thoughts, it really was.

“I don’t care.” Beau insisted, “Tell me.”

“Okay… but, geez, this sounds bad.” Jacob shook his head. “He said to tell you, no, to _warn_ you, that—and this is his plural, not mine—” he lifted one hand from Beau’s waist and made little quotation marks in the air—“’We’ll be watching.’” He watched warily for Beau’s reaction.

Beau stared blankly at him for a moment, then burst out laughing. “Okay, duly noted,” he snickered, “now tell Billy to pay up.”

“I will,” Jacob managed half a smile.

“Sorry you had to do this, Jake,” Beau smiled with an easy familiarity.

“I don’t mind _that_ much.” Jacob grinned, “I got to see you.” His eyes raked appraisingly over Beau’s tuxedo and face. A litany of thoughts paraded through his mind, then he forced himself to focus. “So, should I tell Billy you said to butt the hell out?” he asked hopefully.

“No,” Beau sighed. “Tell him I said thanks. I know he means well.”

The song ended, but they stayed standing where they were. I took this as my cue to make my presence known again.

“And thank you, Jake,” Beau said, “I know you wouldn’t have agreed to come down unless you cared about me.”

Jacob’s hands stayed hesitantly at Beau’s waist. _Man, Beau is so great. He’s just so nice to me, even though he doesn’t need to be. He’s really sweet…. I mean, he’s better than anyone I know… and he looks so damn hot tonight… He’s literally perfect. That Cullen guy is one lucky dog._ He glanced down at his leg in the walking cast. “Do you want to dance again? Or I can help you get somewhere?”

I was already standing just behind Jacob. “That’s all right, Jacob. I’ll take it from here.”

The boy flinched and stared wide-eyed at me. _Jeez, he’s so quiet…_

“Hey, I didn’t see you there,” he mumbled. “I guess I’ll see you around, Beau.” He finally dropped his hands from Beau’s waist and stepped back, waving halfheartedly.

But Beau smiled and caught his hand, pulling him back into a quick hug, “I’ll see you later, Jake.”

It was simply a friendly gesture, I reminded myself. Beau was a kind person, he hugged most of his friends. I shouldn’t get jealous. I _wouldn’t_ get jealous… I was losing the argument with myself because, despite my efforts, I was.

Jacob stepped back and glanced between Beau’s face and mine. “Sorry,” he said again before he turned for the door. His thoughts were almost entirely preoccupied with Beau, much to my chagrin.

I wound my arms back around Beau as the next song started. I ignored the songs quicker tempo and kept us at a slow, even pace. Beau leaned his head against my chest.

“Feeling better?” He teased.

“Not really,” I said, a little too tersely.

“Temper,” he warned, “Don’t be mad at Billy,” he sighed. “He just worries about me for Charlie’s sake. It’s nothing personal.”

“I’m not mad at Billy,” I corrected, my voice still clipped. “But his son is irritating me.”

Beau pulled back to look at me.

“Jacob? Why?”

“First of all, he made me break my promise.”

He stared at me in confusion.

I half-smiled. “I promised I wouldn’t let go of you tonight,” I explained.

“Oh. Well, I forgive you.”

“Thanks. But there’s something else.” I frowned.

Beau waited patiently.

“He called you _handsome_ ,” I finally admitted, my frown deepening. He stared at me, once again confused, I realized how childish and jealous I sounded, so I quickly added, “That’s practically an insult, the way you like right now, you’re much more than stunning.”

Beau laughed. “You might be a little biased.”

“I don’t think that’s it. Besides, I have excellent eyesight.”

I tried to distract him by moving us into the dance along with everyone else, but I was still tense.

“You’re jealous.” Beau stated with dawning realization.

His perceptiveness once again cut through my pretenses. “I told you before,” I said, feeling guilty, “I’m not used to feeling that way. You should have heard what he was thinking about you.”

“Oh?”

I sighed, regretting that I mentioned it. “He thought you looked absolutely wonderful, and that you’re the sweetest, kindest, most perfect person he knows.” I couldn’t disagree with Jacob Black’s assessment. I smiled a little then, “He thinks I’m incredibly lucky to have you.”

Beau smirked, “what do you think?”

I spun him around, holding him tightly, lowering my lips to his ear. “I think I’m the luckiest man in the whole world.”

Beau’s body shivered in my arms, but he wasn’t cold—it was a shiver of excitement.

“He was completely accurate with one compliment he gave you.” I kissed his neck gently. “Your eyes are beautiful.”

Beau blushed crimson as he pulled back to look at me, I smiled.

“So are you going to ever explain the reason for all this?” He inquired casually.

I was confused by the question, so he cast a meaningful glance at the decorations around us.

Ah. I considered how best to explain it to him. I didn’t want to take away from the evening in any way, but it certainly wasn’t a conversation to have in the middle of the school gym. I changed direction, spinning him through the crowd toward the back door of the gym. As we moved, he kept catching the eyes of his friends; Jessica Stanley, dancing with that wretched Mike Newton. She waved at Beau and he smiled back. We passed Angela Weber and I was pleased to see her dancing happily in the arms of Ben Cheney, eyes locked on one another. All his other friends in their various groups and couplings, living their simple and thoroughly human lives. Lives I wished Beau could have. Lives that didn’t involve treaties and vampires.

Once we were alone outside in the cool, dim light of the fading sunset I swung him up into my arms and carried him across the dark grounds till we reached the lone bench that sat under the shadow of the madrone trees. I sat there, keeping him against my chest. The moon was already up, visible through the gossamer clouds. I watched it, troubled by my thoughts.

“The point?” He prompted softly.

I couldn’t answer him yet, my eyes stayed on the cold moon.

“Twilight, again,” I murmured. “Another ending. No matter how perfect the day is, it always has to end.”

“Everything ends, eventually.” He said wistfully.

I sighed. Everything. Except my kind.

“I brought you to the prom,” I said slowly, gathering my thoughts, “because I don’t want you to miss anything. I don’t want my presence to take away anything from you, if I can help it. I want you to be _human_. I want your life to continue as it would have if I’d died from the influenza like I should have.”

Beau shuddered at my words, and then shook his head angrily. “In what strange parallel dimension would I _ever_ have gone to prom of my own free will? Even if I didn’t have a broken leg, I would have been sitting in my bed with some ice cream and a book if you weren’t here.”

I tried to smile. “It wasn’t so bad, you said so yourself.”

“No, but it helped that I was with you.”

We were quiet for a moment; I stared at the moon and Beau stared at me.

“Will you tell me something?” I asked, glancing down at him with as much of a smile as I could manage.

“Don’t I always?”

“Just promise you’ll tell me,” I insisted, grinning.

He seemed hesitant, but he answered, “Fine.”

“You seemed honestly surprised when you figured out that I was taking you here,” I began.

“I _was_ ,” he interjected.

“Exactly,” I agreed. “But you must have had some other theory… I’m curious—what did you _think_ I was dressing you up for?”

I already knew the answer, I prepared myself to hear him speak it out loud.

“I told you in the car,” he rolled his eyes, “I have no idea with you.” He ran his hand through my hair, “You tend to go for extremes though. Maybe we were going to a movie, or a fancy dinner date.”

I wasn’t expecting that. I was thrown by his answer. “You didn’t think…” I hesitated, not wanting to put the idea in his head if it wasn’t already there. “You didn’t think I was going to… to _change_  you.” I practically had to spit the words out.

He stared at me for a moment, confused. “Is that normally a black-tie occasion?” He asked teasingly, touching the lapel of my jacket.

I didn’t understand his light-heartedness in the situation and scowled, he kissed my cheek in response. His kiss did help to ease my frustration, some.

“If I had been planning…” I trailed off, detesting the very idea, unable to speak the words again. “If that _was_ what I was going to do, what would you have said?”

He thought about it for a moment, “I don’t know. I don’t think I could leave Charlie or my mom, or my friends. After everything that happened with James I realized how important they all are to me.” He paused, “But I would be lying to myself if I didn’t admit that a big part of me wants to say yes.”

I was afraid of that. I sighed deeply. “Are you really that willing?”

He seemed to see the pain in my eyes and was unwilling to answer. He bit his lip in lieu of a proper answer.

As enticingly distracting as that was, I couldn’t ignore the implications. He _was_  willing. “So ready for this to be the end,” I murmured, more to myself than him, “for this to be the twilight of your life, though your life has barely started. You’re ready to give up everything.”

“It wouldn’t be the end, it would be a beginning,” he disagreed softly.

“I’m not worth it,” I said sadly. I made no qualms about my own unworthiness, only that he would be so willing to give up something so precious for me.

“Do you remember when you told me that I didn’t see myself very clearly?” He asked, raising his eyebrows. “You obviously have the same blindness.”

“I know what I am.” A monster, an abomination.

Beau sighed.

I didn’t want to argue with him. Not tonight. I wanted this night to be special. I wanted tonight to be perfect for him. I decided to shift the mood of the situation. I examined his face carefully for a long moment.

“Would you be ready now, then?” I asked.

“Um,” He gulped, his pulse quickened. “Yes?”

I smiled and inclined my head slowly until my lips brushed against his warm, soft skin just under the corner of his jaw.

“Right now?” I whispered, breathing gently on his neck. He shivered involuntarily as his heart thudded and his pulse quickened further.

“Yes,” he breathed the words out. A release of control and inhibitions. He wasn’t just answering my question, he was inviting me—asking me to continue, asking for more. Was he saying yes to me changing him right here and now? Or simply saying yes to my touch? I couldn’t be sure. I didn’t have Alice’s gift; I didn’t know what the future held. Beau seemed so sure of the course he was on and the decisions he was making. But I believed there was another way. The future wasn’t set in stone; the tiniest decision could change our course and send us in a whole different direction. I wouldn’t let Alice’s visions dictate that course in any way, I would make my own future— _we_  would make _our_  own future.

I felt that strange electric charge surge from his body and into mine as I brushed my lips against his neck. That burning heat I felt every time I touched him, that burning heat that I craved more and more each day, with each passing second. His head was tilted back, and his eyes were closed. His heart was pounding against his chest now. His heart beating was the most perfect and beautiful sound in the world—I would never grow tired of that sound.

I chuckled darkly and leaned away. Amused by his willing and inviting expression.

“You can’t really believe that I would give in so easily,” I teased him gently.

He smiled euphorically and shrugged.

“Do you want to become a monster so badly?” I asked with raised eyebrows.

“Not at all,” he frowned. “I just want you. Forever.”

His words melted away any sadness or frustration I might have felt before. They filled me with a strange warmth from the inside—it wasn’t a true warmth, of course, more of a feeling.

“Beau.” I traced the shape of his velvet lips with my fingers. “I _will_ stay with you—isn’t that enough?”

He smiled under my fingertips. “Enough for now.”

I frowned at that, his tenacity and stubbornness could be… frustrating. I exhaled, the sound coming out in a growl.

He touched my face. “Look,” he said. “I love you more than anything in this world. That’s enough.”

“Yes, it is,” I answered, smiling. “Enough for forever.”

And I leaned down to press my lips once more to his warm throat.


End file.
